


Gilded Cages

by MaryLouLeach



Series: GILDED [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: AU, Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Alternate Universe - Wolves, Anal Sex, Angst, Attempted Murder, Biting, Blood, Blood Drinking, Bonding, Child Abuse, Dark Sherlock, Dom/sub Undertones, Drug Addiction, Drugged Sex, Hurt/Comfort, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Multi, Non-Consensual, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Mycroft, Possessive Sherlock, Protective Mycroft, Rape/Non-con Elements, Recreational Drug Use, Romance, Sex, Slash, Slavery, Some Fluff, Suicide Attempt, Torture, Vampire Politics, Vampire Sex, Vampire Turning, Vampires, Vamplock, War, Werewolf Politics, Winter Mystrade Exchange
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-27
Updated: 2015-12-27
Packaged: 2018-01-13 23:01:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 21
Words: 52,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1243789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaryLouLeach/pseuds/MaryLouLeach
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The vampire remained motionless in the dark of his prison; his eyes clasped shut as if he were sleeping. However Vampires didn’t sleep, or rather this one did not. Sleeping would bring dreams; dreams were solely a human condition, whereas nightmares, nightmares were what plagued the sleep of the immortal.<br/>Sherlock knew he was a monster, and even now in this hellish prison locked in the unfurnished room, he felt the darkness of soul start to fester. Pushing at him and all he wished to do was silence it, he needed his fix needed more. The last addict he fed on wasn’t enough. He needed more, needed to shut out the screaming that plagued him that weighed him down and kept him shackled to his hunger.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Caged Beasts

**Author's Note:**

> Go easy on me this is my first crack at VAMPLOCK. It's a completely new universe. It's a dark place to dwell for sure.

Mycroft watched as his brother was dragged in and thrown non to gently into one of the safe rooms. He needed to detox, why he chose to feed on drug addicted humans was beyond the older Holmes.

The stink alone was off putting, he knew better than try and communicate with his younger kin, the last time he'd made that psychic connection and he came away with a bloody nose and a seizure for his troubles.

"He wont last if he keeps this up Mycroft. You should just end him and be done with it. The boy is damaged goods, a shame really he had such potential. However you see now what sentiment will buy you. Foolish child! It disgusts me knowing we carry the same blood, but _his_ mother was weak."

"She was _my_ mother as well brother."

Mycroft growled glaring at his older brother. Sherrinford Holmes shrugged "Well there was that."

Again the ginger haired vampire growled in warning, his sharp teeth threatening.

"Oh, please. Fine. So touchy about _her_. She was weak. Her kindness was like poison. Look what all that did to him-"

"and she was nothing like the woman who birthed you. Soulless and cruel. Having to be put down by her own sire."

"And yours was no better she put herself down. Walking out into the sun before she was well." Sherrinford snapped "Weak. Like him! And if I had the-"

"You will leave. He is my brother and I will not put him down like one of your dogs! "

"Fine, but mark my words brother dear, Sherlock is just another liability. If father were alive-"

"Ah, yes. **_Him_**. Well he's not alive and I do believe it was I who seized his power, thus making me the Head of our house. Not you brother. _**Me**_. So I suggest you return to your dog training."

" Oh speaking of training. How is our dear silver mutt doing? Such a shame you've let him run wild. If you would just give him to me for training. These Wolves have forgotten what it is to blood bonded to a family. He wouldn't be so defiant-."

The ginger haired vampire snarled showing his teeth in warning.

"Very well." Sherrinford turned on his heels, the expensive Italian leather shoes making no noise as he moved down the corridor, his hands thrust angrily into his dark suit pockets.

Mycroft continued to stand in front of the locked door his youngest brother was currently held in. There had to be a way to save him, or Sherrinford was right he would need to put Sherlock out of his misery.

"Sire." One of Mycroft's haflings approached her sharp black eyes focusing on the mobile in her hands. "The Detective Inspector is here for your five o'clock. Should I move the meeting?" Mycroft didn't glance back at the heavy door, reinforced with solid steel and glazed with silver it was made to keep a vampire in.

"No, I'll be there in a moment. Please be sure our guest is comfortable. " The dark haired vampire with ruby red lips and a black pin skirt suit nodded turning on her heels she was sure to keep up with the flow of information streaming through her phone.

_**~0~** _

Lestrade paced in front of the fireplace in the lavishly decorated sitting room. On any other day and in any other home he would allow himself to bask in the warmth.

However the many off putting scents that this place reeked of added to the unease that he was severely out numbered. The Alpha Wolf hated that the head of the Holmes Coven wished to speak to him here deep within the vamps territory. The Were was at a disadvantage but the treaty was in place and his bosses wished to keep communication between the Wolves and the Vamps open and well peaceful.

It was all just an illusion, Lestrade was well aware of the fact that England was controlled by the Vampires. The immortal blood suckers made his skin crawl and nose twitch.

After four hundred years he thought he would be used to the idea of peace but too much blood had been spilled in his younger years, on both sides for such a thing to truly be accepted.

Anyway how was there equality when the Vamps ran the government and Wolves were the enforcers of Vamp law. Leaving the mortals with the short end of the evolutionary stick.

Well at least they had a common enemy right now, an upstart by the name of Moran.

This bastard was something twisted and Lestrade had a theory that it wasn't just Moran behind the production of this new street drug. It was called HEMA, and the ones who used it were called Bleeders.

HEMA was made with the addictive blood of a vamp, and the crazy addicts were getting better and better at capturing Vamps. They would then bleed the poor soulless bastard. Laws were in place to make sharing blood with a human or even a wolf for any purposes healing included highly illegal. Something punishable by death. A Vamp could only share blood with the intention of turning the human or bonding with a Were.

The bonding of a Were to a Vamp was an old archaic and cruel tradition no longer practiced. Well at least it was frowned upon, Were's weren't slaves anymore in this new free era. Still it wasn't unheard of for a Wolf to be admitted (forced) into a Vamps family.

Were's had a long tradition of safeguarding the lands of Vampires and acting as their servants. Those days ended with the great Wars hundreds of years ago.

Lestrade knew he would rather be dead then forced into submission and obedience training. He served no one but the Yard and his pack. A bleeder took on the blood, fiend for it and slowly lost themselves to the siren's call. Unfortunately vampire blood wasn't meant for such consumption, after a few weeks the addict started to loose their hair, pigment in their eyes, then their teeth became sharp and jagged. Nothing like the delicate beauty of a vamp, more like a strung out junkie.

These Bleeders often wore all black with a red cuff on their bicep, idiots were proud of their addiction and the blood did make them crazy as well as strong.

After too long the bleeder started feeding on humans that's when things got messy. Lestrade and his pack at the yard were being pressured by the humans, and the vamps. Were's weren't targeted so they were being accused of being in league with the dealers.

The fragile peace was being threatened and Lestrade had a feeling that something needed to happen or all hell would break loose. He needed help and coming here was part of how bad it was getting. Lestrade needed to talk to the youngest Holmes.

He knew the young man was on his own downward spiral, addicted to less than clean humans. Yes there were still ordinary street drugs contaminating the systems of the fragile humans. Sherlock Holmes had been caught running a drug den, he helped the humans get high then he would sell said human to a vampire to feed off of.

It was the perfect scheme until Lestrade had caught wind and then Mycroft Holmes became involved. The Detective Inspector had six of his finest pack members in the hospital after they subdued the young strung out vamp. Lestrade had a feeling that the youngest Holmes could help lead them to Moran, the Vamp had connections after all. Now, Lestrade just had to convince Mycroft Holmes.

_**~0~** _

The vampire remained motionless in the dark of his prison; his eyes clasped shut as if he were sleeping. However Vampires didn't sleep, or rather this one did not.

Sleeping would bring dreams; dreams were solely a human condition, whereas nightmares, nightmares were what plagued the sleep of the immortal.

Sherlock knew he was a monster, and even now in this hellish prison locked in the unfurnished room, he felt the darkness of soul start to fester. Pushing at him and all he wished to do was silence it, he needed his fix needed more. The last addict he fed on wasn't enough. He needed more, needed to shut out the screaming that plagued him that weighed him down and kept him shackled to his hunger.


	2. Unleashed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John meets Lestrade and Sherlock for the first time, things don't go so well.

John tore from his nightmare the young Doctor sat up panting he looked around the dimly lit room, the television was playing low and there was warm conversation in the corner. John realized he had fallen asleep on the big worn out couch.

"John? Doc? You okay?" Dimmock called from the far corner where he was playing cards with the caramel skinned female Were, Donovan.

"Yeah, I just-overslept?" John squinted at his watch.

"Or underslept." Donovan slapped her cards down happily to Dimmock's disappointment he growled in irritation. "Really Watson you're only human. Can't keep up the hours you've been runnin. Between the hospital and that halfway house, you'll burn yourself out."

"Yeah, anyway Doc it's not like Lestrade didn't say you could stay as long as you wanted." Dimmock started to shuffle the cards.

"After all you did for Constable Richards and Mayhew. Not to mention the scrapes you've been cleaning up on our primary pack. It's nice to have a live in Doc in the house. It's not like you need money. Besides who cares about a bunch of homeless halfbreeds. If the Vamps don't want em-" It was Donovan talking now, unaware of John's irritation at her referring to the orphaned halflings as unwanted. It wasn't a child's fault their parents didn't want anything to do with them. They were products of lust and sometimes rape, abandoned to the streets. Weres were nothing like that, they took in an orphan as if the child was their very own. Vampires weren't like this, if a child was anything but pure blooded they tended to just abandon them and the human that carried them. John hated the practice of blood dolls, selling your blood and body for the riches of a Vamp sometimes one got more than they bargained for.

"I am grateful for your boss letting me stay here free of rent. Despite the smell of dog and the fact that anytime I meet with a non human patient they sniff at me curiously." Ever the diplomat John cut off the familiar rant politely.

"What?" Both Donovan and Dimmock narrowed their eyes looking over at the blond human.

John stretched rubbing a hand through his already disheveled hair, he frowned at his feet.

Somehow he couldn't remember taking off his shoes."Hmmm?" he yawned turning his head to look over the side of the couch at the two.

"Who has been sniffing around?" Donovan demanded.

"Just anyone really. Ever since I started living here anytime I get on the tube and then at the hospital. I had a few vamp administrators sneeze rather dramatically around me. Then the kids at Rosehouse they mentioned I stink. It's not so bad, the vamps steer clear but other Weres just get closer and-"

"Like who?!" Both Donovan and Dimmock were on their feet now, nearly knocking over the square card table in their wake.

"What's all the noise." Anderson grumbled coming into the large living area. His mouth was full and John always found his nasally voice to be annoying. However Donovan had invited him over and he had yet to leave, despite the fact he reeked of a human female.(something Dimmock liked to point out.) The tall thin pointy nose were wore a simple button up white shirt with the sleeves rolled over his forearms.

"Wankers have been sniffing around John." Donovan snapped. Dimmock glared at Anderson,

"Why is he still here. The boss doesn't-"

"The boss doesn't care. Besides Lestrade has not been here in almost a month he's so busy running with the vamps. Poor sod-"

"Just because he's not here doesn't mean he likes you fraternizing with Anderson. Besides he's a forensics idiot."

"Hey! I'm still here. And my job is just as important as yours constable." Anderson fumed, clutching the bag of crisps at his side. John winced, knowing those were in fact Dimmocks.

"It's not constable anymore you wanker it's DI Dimmock. And are those my crisps?" Dimmock took a threatening step towards the thinner Werewolf.

John rolled his eyes, indeed the young were had just come into a promotion and was happy to wear a smart although cheap suit. The whole house had celebrated and John wasn't too happy with the mess afterwards. He made the hung over rowdy bunch start to clean up the mess of paper plates, beer bottles and ripped articles of clothing. Apparently a few of the party goers thought they wanted to transform in the middle of the party to wrestle and do what Weres usually did.

John had only happily sidestepped the party and read a book in his room, only to come down and turn a hose on two overzealous Weres snarling and snapping at each other in the front yard.

"Hey Doc!" Constable Keller padded into the room wearing his sweats and a gray MET t-shirt. The young man stretched hopping over the couch he plopped down next to John, kicking his feet out onto the blonde's lap.

John had grown accustomed to the casual way in which the pack treated him. The house was an old warehouse converted into a living space. Several bedrooms were shared upstairs by the unbonded pack members that lived in the home. John understood that this was how the home was run, the pack that worked together also lived together.

Lestrade was a DI and the others followed his lead, Lestrade was unbonded although according the house gossip he had dated a human for a bit only for her to run off with some Vamp. But he never talked about it and it was apparently a long time ago. John had yet to meet the man, those directly under him lived here. The bonded pack members had their own domiciles but still popped in for dinner or a drink, maybe to watch some rugby. Lestrade was just a senior DI's of the Homicide division, and this was his team. The young doctor felt a warmth here comfortable in this close knit family environment, he had never experienced anything like this before.

John somehow was adopted in, and all just for helping Dimmock out of a sticky situation with a crazed bleeder. It happened when John had been getting off of work when he caught the scuffle. Bleeders could be so unpredictable and the young DI was trying to take her on after she'd already incapacitated two of his men. Long story short John came up from behind and brought a rather heavy bit of pipe down on her head. Thankfully she hadn't seen him, he couldn't take the chance she knew him or his sister. Even with the threat of being found out like in the army he couldn't leave the young were to be badly injured. After that Dimmock had offered him a place to stay one better than the small bedsit he called home at the time.

John wondered what this DI Lestrade was like, everyone spoke of him with such respect. He was off on some secret mission everyone was so hush hush about John knew they were worried as well because of the comments they made.

"Bastards have been scenting John-"

"Who!?" Keller was pulling his feet off of John's lap he jumped onto all fours and sniffed the top of the blond's head.

"Oi! Don't you do it too! And I didn't say they were scenting me I said they were sniffing around." John huffed leaning back away from the red haired Keller. "What's the big deal." John moved off the couch Keller and the others were all frowning in his direction.

"Seriously it's adorable how much you don't know." Donovan took the deck from Dimmock and started to shuffle, shaking her head almost amused by John's ignorance.

Anderson rolled his eyes not liking the fact the female was showing interest in the human, now that was a turn up. Humans were boring and so very very predictable at least that's how his wife was. He should have mated with his own kind.

"It's simply disrespectful considering you've been absorbed into this pack. For others to simply try and scent you is well it's a challenge. "

"Oh, god. That's ridiculous. They aren't hurting anybody besides, I'm not afraid or threatened."

"The Vamps have more sense than to touch what's already been claimed." Donovan glanced over at Dimmock, he had been beating around the bush for a month now. The idiot should hurry and just turn the human, get it over with. Coward. If he wasn't going to then she would happily make the Doctor her mate. He was smart, and well not bad to look at, a bit on the short side but she liked to dominate her males and females. Anderson after all was just a quick frolic John could make the perfect mate, that and he would be a good addition, officially to their pack. Having a doctor in the house was actually rather genius. Dimmock was being a blood fool.

Lestrade hadn't met the man yet but she was in charge while the boss was busy and he approved of her opinion and had given the nod for Dimmock to mate and turn the human. However Dimmock the idiot had yet to even let the Doctor know of his interest.

Now others were sniffing around, and why shouldn't they an unclaimed find such as Doctor John Watson was highly valued. The man had mentioned he was briefly in the army and she wondered what had ended his career he never spoke much about himself but no one questioned the younger man. He obviously didn't like to talk about it.

John rolled his eyes "What am I not getting?"

"Dimmock would love to explain it to you." Donovan grinned when the newly promoted constable started to blush, and Keller tried to stifle a laugh. "Or I could-" Sally laughed when both Anderson and Dimmock growled in objection to such a proposal.

"Dimmock?" John felt confused sometimes he wished he could have the same strong sense of smell. Had he been scented? Why would any find him to be interesting, he made it his life's mission to go unnoticed. If these Weres knew where he came from, who his family was, they would truly hate him. Possibly kill him slowly.

The front door slammed open, "I said I don't need a bloody watch dog! I can take care of myself!" a deep voice hissed.

John was suddenly crowded by the Weres in the living room, to his surprise even Anderson had joined in the huddle. Several growls filled the air and the mortal rolled his eyes once more. He had been raised around Weres rather was made to help keep them fed and alive so his father could keep them fighting in the dog fights. However he wasn't used to the their ways outside of the ring, in everyday life. They were so much more human. Not that he ever judged them to be any less valuable than himself.

His life was worthless really he had done things and stood idle as crimes were committed by his uncle or the vampire that claimed to be his uncle and his sister an enforcer a Bleeder.

"Everyone calm down!" A gravely voice demanded and John felt the tension lessen however no one moved out from around him and he hated his height.

"I'm not interested in whatever human you've marked so obscenely with your filthy scents. " The deep honeyed voice was cutting and cold, John curiously tried to peek around Dimmock who had a possessive hand at the small of John's back.

"Boss? What the hell is a vamp doing here, in the house! You invited him in!" Donovan sounded as if she was ready to be sick, her nose crinkled and she held the back of her hand under her nose.

"He's my guest and he will be treated as such! Now-" John managed to step around the protective shield, he wasn't some weak human. His blue eyes found the warm chocolate of the silver haired man in a gray trench coat. This was Lestrade he guessed and by the way the older Werewolf had stopped talking he hadn't expected John to be there or was just surprised by John's appearance.

"What the fuck-" Lestrade froze in his place, a sudden memory flashed before the older man's eyes and he turned slowly to the young vamp that had gone completely still.

"Is this a joke?" The dark haired blood drinking addict snarled. "Did you think you could get to me!"

John realized something was terribly wrong when those cold gray eyes turned their sharp fury in his direction. Suddenly the room went cold, and John knew this feeling, knew it from experience a hand went to his right forearm out of instinct and he took a step back.

Chaos broke when Keller and Anderson were the first to be sent flying against the far wall, then Donovan followed.

It was Dimmock who had the sense to transform John was pushed back by the force of it and landed hard against the wall behind him near the stunned and groaning pack members.

The Vampire advanced with a savage snarl and John realized he was the target of the attack, that unquestionable rage was aimed at him. His first thought was " They've found me." Terrified he backed up against the wall, unable to look away from his coming death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait. This is unbeta'd so it wont take so long to update as the TRUST. if you are looking for updates on THE TRUST feel free to find me on tumblr at marylousfanfictionspace.tumblr i've posted small snippets of the next chapter.


	3. Commands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lestrade and Sherlock are rocked by old memories.

Sherlock snapped himself out of whatever red haze that nearly overcame his vision. The echos of his past stirring up he halted within a breath of the human, a mortal. He smelled alive, not a ghost not the nightmare that would haunt him.

 

Without a word he turned on his heels and with the swoosh of his dark coat he was gone from the room, leaving the Weres to pant and growl, all but one Were.

 

Lestrade didn't follow the Vampire out, he was focused on the trembling young man.

 

"Who are you?" he found his voice, and it was a dark growl.

 

"John-John Watson." The human replied.

 

"Boss, we told you about him-" Donovan tried to interject rubbing her arm, Dimmock was still transformed his sandy fur raised and he let out a warning snarl. The gray haired DI met his glare and immediately the wolf bowed his head whimpering and backing away.

 

"Boss? What's the problem? John is a doctor he's helped us out and-"

 

Lestrade glared at his second in command, he didn't have to state his reasons, his suspicions, because he like the Holmes brothers did not believe in coincidences.

 

"I can vouch for him-" Donovan tried to ease the situation, putting her back to the human. Dimmock and the others had transformed back careless as to their state of undress.

 

"You can't tell me you don't trust John because some damn blood drinking demon freaked out and nearly ate him! And in our home! Disrespectful bastards the lot of them! They don't own us-" Dimmock growled irritably.

 

"I want everyone out I need to speak to -" Lestrade sniffed the air, it was cold there was a draft and he shook his head, of course the window hadn’t been open earlier. And of course the human had fled, the human that looked so much like another he once knew.

One that was long dead but whose face would haunt him and he knew by stories of the human’s demise it should very much taunt the Vampire Sherlock.

 

~0~

SUMMER OF 1450

 

"It's dark here, let me light the lantern mind your eyes."  A hushed voice broke the shivering Were's fevered thoughts."You're injured, let me help you."

 

"Touch me and I'll rip your foul arm from your blood drained body!" The silver haired young Were snarled, his breathing heavy. He was too weak to transform. In such a state he was dangerous, wounded but still dangerous.

 

"Please." The blond human held up his hands and lowered his head, "I don't mean you harm."

 

"Harm!" the Were's laugh was raspy and harsh, he held a hand to his bruised side and winced at the burning pain in his shoulder. "Harm. You and your pretty words. Did your master send you in to poison my thoughts, to make me healthy once more so I can fight for his pleasure?"

 

"No." The human shook his head, it was dark but the Were could see the figure of a young man barely a young man. He reeked of vamp, the musk of the dead and also he carried with him fresh air. Fresh air and with it the memory of sunshine and open fields.

 

"No. I'm not doing this for him, or anyone." The boy was in his early twenties, clean shaven, wearing the clothes of a house servant.

 

"Free me then."

 

"I can't-"

 

"What good is being healed then?" The Were roared grabbing the young boy by his white shirt front.

 

The boy winced, it was then the Were could smell the blood on the young man.

 

"I didn't say I wont help you. But what good will it be if I help you escape and you're too injured to run? To get away? They'll catch you and knowing that bastard Sherrinford Holmes he'll do worse than kill you. He'll make an example out of you. Cripple you, like he did me. Then you will never see your family."

 

The Were shook his head releasing the boy, sensing only sadness in the boy and no deception. The mortal limped over where the shirtless man had gone to lay.

 

"I've brought water and I'll clean that wound."

 

"Why do you help me?" Lestrade demanded tensing as the boy gently took his arm to examine the wound red and angry.

 

"I want out. I need to get out. I have a wife I would like to return to."

 

"Humph, wife? My bitch of a wife decided to run away with one of the blood drinking demons. She betrayed me to this."

"What is your name?" The blond asked offering a canteen of cool water to the thirsty man's parched lips.

 

"Gregory Lestrade."

 

"Well Lestrade there are others here. The dogs of Sherrinford, and I mean to free them all before he manages a blood bond."

 

"You'll do that? Again why?"

 

"We are all prisoners. I wish this fate on no one. They've taken my sister and my life from me. I will escape just please take me with you where you go. Help me find my wife again."

 

"If I live I give you my word."

 

The blond boy nodded, "I trust your word."

 

"God help me I trust yours."

 

~0~

Lestrade snapped out of the memory before it could go much further, he hated to remember the past. Hated the thought of being caged the stench of that cell's cold damp walls.

"Find him. Bring him back." Lestrade ordered his pack, and without hesitation they all transformed once more.

~0~

John ran, he was barefoot but didn't care, that Vampire recognized him it wouldn't take much for him to take him back to his Uncle or worse Moriarty. The human shivered, he needed to make haste to hide. Despite the fear of recapture, his heart ached for the good work he had been doing. Helping out at the children's shelter living at life at the hospital. He almost felt normal for a little while there.

 

The air was cold on his skin, he could get to the hospital he had an extra pair of clothes and shoes in his locker. He would need to go farther away, but where, he only had a meager savings.

The air left his lungs as he was slammed hard against the brick of the alley building he had been running down and everything went black.

~0~

 

WINTER OF 1448

 

"I've brought you a present little brother." Mycroft strode into the young Vamp’s laboratory. He made a face at the stench of something boiling and the many chemicals laying about dangerously aware of the silver laying across a corpse.

"Sherlock, you really shouldn't play with your food." The elder brother sighed.

 

"He was already dead, it was some traitor that Sherrinford gave to me for scientific purposes."

 

"How giving he can be." Mycroft’s usual sardonic reply caused the younger vampire to roll his eyes and wave his brother off.

 

"I don't want it."

 

"It's a gift from father, you can't say no."

 

"I can and I will."

 

"He's healthy and father has already chosen the other blood sacrifice to be turned. This one, you can turn or drain. Just keep him alive longer than the last."

 

"I don't want a blood doll. They are common creatures that cry and moan. If I wanted to hear that I'd sit in father’s court-"

 

"Sherlock! You will take this one and you will feed regularly! His blood is untouched but he smells nice enough." Mycroft huffed, placing his hands behind his back a normal sign of impatience. 

 

“That long coat makes you appear fatter than you are. Red clashes with your ridiculous hair. Really you should shoot or eat your tailer. “ Sherlock grinned knowing his brother hated any remark on his perceived perfect appearance. 

 

The tall vampire with red hair and a pointy nose snapped his fingers and his men dragged the prisoner in tossing him at the younger vampires feet.

 

“I will tell father you are grateful for such a gift.”

 

"If you don't need my services I'll be all too happy to go home-" the human stood up dusting off. He was young, his face slightly tanned proof that he worked his father's fields. Sherlock could see the human had been stripped of his outerwear as a precaution. The young vampire winced hearing the human’s chaotic thoughts screaming for freedom and release. Even now the mortal was searching for a way out. Boring.

 

"Do what you want but he is not to be set free and if he escapes well you know the punishment.  Don't make me find you a new one, I do hate leg work."

 

Mycroft left and the blond human glanced around in horror, "Please let me go home. You don't want me. I'm nothing. I have a family and-"

"Your father must have displeased mine for him to demand blood sacrifices. "

 

"We had wolves on our land." The mortal straightened his shoulders, "My father is an honorable man and he was healing them. What your father massacres and enslaves. Mine heals and houses."

 

Your father is a monster, just as you and your brother are. I will kill you when you sleep and escape here. Freedom! Mary, Mary. I have to get back to Mary.

 

Sherlock winced, did the human have to think so damn loudly.

 

"It's an act of war. Foolish man your father to do such a thing. Wolves are dangerous foul stupid creatures that are used to protect our lines, and our lands. They make good pets and wonderfully loyal attack dogs."

 

The blond wanted to say more but he didn't reply, instead he lowered his head and glared at his bootless feet.

 

You are the animals. Wolves never stole our women, bleed our people hunted our children. Never murdered our mothers. Foul beast, the reek of you makes me ill and I will leave here after I kill you. You won’t feed on me without a fight. I need boots, and a coat. It’s cold out, the snow. Gods Mary is alone.

 

"Can I at least have some warm clothes." The blond human was wearing a thin white tunic and short pants, his feet were covered by wool socks.

 

"It seems that my brother considers you a runner. I can read it in your thoughts even now you are considering the impossible. Fleeing would not be in your best interest. Although it would save me from the tedious task of feeding on you. However my brothers would be displeased and there displeasure would disrupt my current experiment. So, I'll ask you to not run away. And I will of course deny your request. Go sit quietly by the fire until I feel the need to call on you."

 

Shit, shit! He reads thoughts. Probably reading mine right now. Shut up! Fuck. How long has he been listening in? He knows. No, no he doesn't or you’d be dead. Stop thinking!

 

"Aren't you even going to ask me my name?" The human grumbled.

 

"It is irrelevant." the vampire huffed, turning back to his work table.

 

"Johann for the record. And what should I call you? Master? Warden? Monster?"

 

"Whatever you wish. I care not. Just be silent and quiet your thoughts they are very distracting to me." 

 

~0~

 

Sherlock stared down at the human on his couch, the blond was starting to wake his eyes blinking in confusion. 

 

Then he was sitting straight up a hand to the back of his most likely throbbing head, thankfully there was no broken skin or the smell of blood. 

 

“I’m not going back.” That was the first thing out of the human’s mouth. He could be Johann’s twin, the same blue eyes and soft blond hair. Although this version wasn’t so young and there were a few more worry lines added to this man’s brow. His skin had seen the sun, but not as a laborer. His hands weren’t calloused he was a Doctor perhaps a surgeon. He wasn’t dressed for the cool weather nor did he have shoes on. Intresting.

 

Sherlock leaned closer easily straddling the human, expecting an onslaught of thoughts and images instead there was nothing. Curious. 

 

"Who are you?" The deep baritone demanded, a cold hand lashing out to capture the mortal’s fragile neck. Effectively pinned the blond tried to swallow, he gasped and coughed. "I said, who are you?"

 

"I can't breath you bastard!" John grunted futilely bringing his knees up desperately arching against the solid and surprisingly strong lean body from him.

 

"Answer the question!" Sherlock couldn’t help but lean in closer, his body enjoying the warmth of the shorter and warmer one. He felt a familiar stirring and didn’t try to hide it, his eyes inspecting the face of the stranger not stranger beneath him.

 

The doctor thought he was in for it, but this Vamp didn't know him, and by the way he was eyeing him suspiciously it was like he was trying to read his thoughts. John easily threw up a brick wall, having been raised around blood suckers his whole life he knew how to avoid this part. However the fact that something hard was digging into his hip wasn't helping with his concentration. Dammit all, why did this vampire have to look so perfect with his sharp cheekbones and disheveled dark locks. 

 

It was a good thing the vamp couldn't read his thoughts, it would just encourage this possessive behaviour.

 

"How are you doing that?" The dark haired demon snapped, his gray eyes cold and narrowed. 

 

John couldn't help but roll his own blue ones, right this one was using compulsion. John could feel the hair on his arms standing up, also not going to work he thought to himself.

"Fuck off-" John snapped, "Stop trying to compel me it wont work. And get the hell off of me!"

 

"It always works." the Vampire hissed suspiciously trying again, John could feel the tingling on his skin and he looked the porcelain demon in the eye and replied defiantly. The vampire moved off of him sitting back at the foot of the couch frowning.

 

"It wont work."

 

"Why not?" the vampire was pouting? He had a look of confusion on his face. "You're human enough."

 

"Yeah, and I'd like to stay that way."

 

"I don't care what you want. I'm not here to take you back to your pets. Or are you the pet?" The Vampire made a face sniffing the air around the blond human. “They’ve mate scented you. You are far too perfect to be a wolf.”

  
  


"I was renting a room from them-" John rubbed his neck irritably. “Stop sniffing me, you’re as bad as them! And I’m not going to be anyones mate. Or blood doll. I’ll be going now.”

 

"Not anymore."

 

"Oh?"

 

"You're staying here with me.”

 

"No. I much rather like to be on my way."

 

"I'm not giving you a choice."

 

"And I'm not staying anywhere with you."

 

"Why did you run away? Who are you running from?"

 

John glared at the vampire, "Piss off."

 

Sherlock reached out and grabbed the human roughly by his shoulder, the human winced and whimpered instantly freezing.

 

To John's surprise he was released immediately a cool hand much gentler laying him back on the worn leather couch.

 

"What's wrong with your shoulder?" The question was gruff but John thought he read concern in the sharp features of the vampire.

 

"I was shot eight months ago. It's still a little sore."

 

"You were a soldier and you are a doctor. Interesting." The vampire inspected the human's face. "You have many secrets."

 

"As I said before piss off."

 

The vampire only continued to try and break through his thought barrier, it was giving John a headache, or perhaps that was the bump to the head.

 

"Fine, John Watson, Dr. John Watson. Now can I think I’ll be on my way. And stop trying to read me dammit. It's creepy as hell."

 

John shot the vampire a glare, the vampire couldn't explain it but the blond wasn't scared he was more angry. His heart rate was calming and he was less of a frightened mouse caught by a cat and more like a cornered kitten suspicious and ready to show it's claws.

  
John needed to stay cool and calm, he let his fears get ahead of him, this vampire wasnt with his uncle, or he would already be halfway back to that awful place. So, if the vampire wasn't with Moran or Moriarty he was something else something just as dangerous. He was interested and John wasn't in the mood to play blood doll for some young vampire no matter how handsome.

There was a heavy knock on the door and before John could blink or protest the vampire had him sitting up and pushed behind him just in time to catch a glimpse of a man with red hair and a pointed nose. His porcelain skin was perfection and his movements to graceful to be human, his air of royalty gave him away right away. That and the sharp white fangs that peeked out just a bit from his red lips. This man in the expensive gray suit and red silk tie was a vampire and from the way the dark haired vamp was acting he wasn't a welcomed guest.   



	4. Silence

Mycroft entered his brothers domain with a scowl, he heard the territorial growl from his brother and ignored it. Just as he ignored the scent of human in his brother's flat.

 

"Please brother, I have no interest in the human you are currently uh," Mycroft sniffed arrogantly, 

 

"entertaining. I've come because Lestrade has informed me you've run off. He was worried you might relapse."

 

"Get out." Sherlock's icy tone didn't affect his brother in any way.

 

"I don't smell any of your usual drugs and from the scent of your human he's-oh that's interesting he's been mate scented."

 

Sherlock heard John sigh heavily, but to his relief the human remained firmly behind him. That was good, Mycroft was a pain if he thought the human was a threat he would take John. John, was not Johann. Johann was dead, he was gone, only dust not even bones.

 

Nothing left of his heart, or his scent, all he had of Johan was what he carried locked away deep in his mind palace. Just memory, lucid, fragile and tainted.

 

A vampire's memory was long and that was the true curse of immortality.

 

"Is this why you left Lestrade's? You've stolen one the Were's pets? Give it back Sherlock."

 

"I'm no ones pet!" John snapped still safely behind the tall dark haired vampire. "And I'm a person. No ones property damn Vamps." John grumbled.

 

"No." Sherlock continued to glare at his brother.

 

Mycroft's lip curled when the damn human had dared speak to him in such a manner, obviously the mate scented mortal had no care for his existence.

 

"You will return what does not belong to you. Lestrade's pack is vital to the investigation. You can do what you want with another. As long as you choose to stay clean."

 

"Piss off! And get out." Sherlock hissed.

 

"Excuse me, since you two obviously have issues to work out, I'll just be leaving." John tried to move around the tall dark haired vampire.

 

Mycroft focused on the blond head attempting to step out from behind his brother. The elder brother noted the lack of shoes on the human, the disheveled clothes and  the scent of his brother's arousal was nauseating.

Really did he need to play with a Were's designated chew toy, surely he wasn't so hard pressed?

 

Then those blue eyes hit Mycroft, and the elder immortal felt the cold blood in his arctic veins freeze as well as his slowly beating heart.

 

The blond for his part didn't take notice and instead tried to walk around the dark haired vampire.

Before Mycroft could speak his brother took a threatening step closer, his glare deadly.

 

" Get. Out ."

 

"Sherlock-" Mycroft found his voice.

 

"He is  MINE ."

 

"I'm no ones. Thanks. What I am, is going." The young mortal wanted to leave but a cold and firm hand barred his exit, resting on his uninjured shoulder.

 

There was a tension he sensed it between the two vampires and had no urge to be in the vicinity when it finally broke. 

 

Really who waited around for a bomb to explode? Not him.

 

The hair on his arms stood up, he could feel the other vamp trying to break into his thoughts. How tiresome, didn't they ever just ask questions? Not that John would answer. He really needed to get further away from these two and any vampire. If they knew who his uncle was, they'd would do worse than kill the mortal. They would make an example out of him.

 

Mycroft kept his face devoid of any expression, but inside he was seething with curiosity. When attempting to read the human he came full force against a brick wall, he tried several techniques, even compulsion with his eyes. He was a master of compulsion but the damn human was an anomaly.

 

"John, my brother was just leaving, then I will retrieve for you some shoes. And escort you to collect your things."

 

"My things? Oh god. Wait, did you say brother. So there’s two of you. Wonderful."

 

"Yes, through no fault of mine, there are in fact three of us. However we should leave that for another day or never. Let us retrieve your things.”

 

“Wait why would we retrieve my things again?” John pinched the bridge of his nose, he really needed something for this growing headache.

 

“So that you can arrange them how you wish."

 

"Huh?"

 

"Here, in the vacant room upstairs."

 

"Right. How about no." John's head was pounding and he could feel the damn red haired pointy nosed blood sucker trying to get into his mind.

 

Mycroft shook his head, "I see." his phone vibrating in his pocket he extracted it turning his back on his brother and companion. The elder Holmes would wait for the appropriate moment and take the little human in for interrogation. Such things as coincidences were unthinkable. Not only that but who did this human descend from? His likeness was startling, but Mycroft knew from first hand knowledge there was nothing left of McWalters.

 

What had he said his name was? John. John what?

 

"I apologize, for my rudeness." Mycroft turned back to his brother and new friend after ending his call. "My name is Mycroft Holmes and you are-"

 

John gave a tight smile. "Doctor Watson." John replied accepting the offered hand without hesitation. Best to not show fear.

 

The vampire smiled politely careful to not show his teeth, he released the offered hand. Watson, he almost laughed at the irony, it could easily all be a cover. He discreetly sniffed the air taking a step back from the warm blooded human.Watson, as in Son of Watts or even another way to so Walterson.

 

He wished to know the blood scent, but Sherlock was still fragile in his sobriety and from how he appeared he had not fed in days. Even a tiny graze of blood from this human could cause a red haze to overcome the younger Holmes. And killing this human would set him back perhaps permanently.

 

"Brother. We shall talk more later."

 

Mycroft left the two in the room sending another quick text to his assistant pertaining to the the human John Watson. Not to be mistaken for Johann McWalters.

 

Besides that phone call was to inform him that the Doll Makers were in town. Just more problems to surface, he was on high alert due to the fact that the Doll Makers were being tracked by a certain individual that would find such a face as this Doctor Watson's as a reason to stir up old wars.

Or perhaps such ghosts could be used to his advantage.

 

~0~

 

Henriette stood on the street, she had been stalking her prey for centuries and it had brought her to London. How could this be? Her self imposed mission, her life's task had brought her back to the beginning. She was surprised to see the immortal Mycroft, even more so astonished to find he was standing next to the Were Lestrade.

 

Hell had indeed frozen over, then one of her targets she was tracking appeared. And with the speed of a true demon of hell her target drew a weapon and slashed aiming for the vampire Mycroft's heartless chest.  

 

Henriette gave pause hoping the assassin would do what she could not.

 

Damn that Wolf! Why would he interrupted, what power did that heartless monster have over the silver haired Were?

 

The untransformed Wolf pulled the intended victim back and accepted the brunt of the hit. A stake to the heart would have killed a vampire nearly immediately, but a Wolf, a Wolf would be slower to die. The aim of his attacker lucky for the wolf was off, and hit him just under his ribs.

 

She moved forward then, while the attacker was preoccupied with the now snarling Mycroft and his minions. She drew her weapon and ended the beast without hesitation. A strike through the very part of the chest he had missed in reference to his own target.

 

"We needed him alive for questions!" The thankless immortal snarled, holding a swaying unchanged Were.

 

"Be glad you're not next!" Henriette snapped. "There are more lurking about she tossed her head towards the now fleeing colleagues of the dead vampire.  Mycroft dispatched his men. "Help me with him. Let my men collect them."

 

"I have no business with this dog, I have my own-"

 

"Fuck off." Lestrade's gargle halted her words.

 

"His life is meaningless to me. I only live to hunt the Doll Makers unless you're willing to allow me to break the vow." Her cold blue eyes narrowed on the immortal.

 

Mycroft thought of the young man upstairs with Sherlock, it would be interesting to see such a reunion, but now was not the time. Such volatile forces his brother and the hunter. For the hunter would never forgive and his brother would never forget. It was one of the many curses an immortal carried.

 

"I'm fine." Lestrade growled attempting to stand, only causing him to lean more into the cold body at his side. Blood bubbled up from his lips, he needed to transform.

 

"That is what you get Wolf for helping the undead. And if you're lucky when you die he'll make you a rug for his men to clean their boots on." Henriette snapped before racing off towards her kill.

 

These were smaller targets, foot soldiers, the sorters, and they would lead her to retrieve the bigger fish. She didn’t have time for   words with Mycroft or threats to the Wolfe. 

 

She scowled glancing over her shoulder at the Wolf and the vampire, Holmes was helping Lestrade into a house with a blue door. 221B.  She noted two of her targets had moved out of the shadow to follow the vampire now unguarded into 221B.

 

Let him die, for a promise he broke. For my brother's life. Let him die.

 

However that small piece of Johann that still remained locked away in her crisp memory whispered for her to not think such things. He may have died at Sherlock's hands but it was a design of Sherrinford's.

 

If Johann were alive he would have no grudge against Mycroft, Sherlock or the Wolf.

 

"Dammit!" Henriette swore angrily turning back to the residence where the  Wolf and the immortal had disappeared into. She knew how these foot soldiers acted, they would take the opportunity and invade the domicile.

 

~0~

 

John was in the middle of putting on the loaned shoes, the vampire stood near the fireplace adding logs to start a fire. Some warmth would be welcomed but John wasn't staying. Today was just one weird occurrence after another.

 

"Whose shoes are these? Dare I ask? They didn't belong to your last meal did they?"

 

Sherlock's head snapped up, and he remained perched on his toes crouched like a gargoyle near the slowly growing flames.

 

"I was kidding." John grinned and vampire felt a rush of warmth that had nothing to do with the fire lick at his chest.

"It was part of an experiment. Those shoes however were the control group so there isnt any bacteria-"

 

Sherlock didn't have a chance to continue with the strange conversation when his door burst open. The scent of blood heavy, he hissed covering his nose with his hand. It was Wolf's blood not as bad as human's but his vision blurred.

 

"Shit! What happened?" The Doctor next to him turned from the body being laid on the couch, he withdrew a handkerchief from his back pocket pressing it to Sherlock's nose and mouth. "Here, I spilled some coffee on my trouser leg earlier used this to wipe it up. It still has the scent of coffee. It might help. After we are sorted here you are sitting down to a bag of warm blood. Or whatever it is you eat."

 

"Are you offering?" Sherlock's deep voice all but purred, the blond's cheeks blushed and he shook his head.

 

"I'm offering to warm it up for you. Now go over there and sit or go in another room. " John turned to the task at hand. He pushed past the crowding vampire brothers.

 

"Move, I'm a Doctor." The blond quickly pulled his brown jumper over his head exposing the crisp white cotton t underneath." Someone call an ambulance now!" To Sherlock's keen eyes, there were scars lining John's arm. Bite marks, perfect crescents from his wrist to the crook of his arm.

 

"An ambulance is on the way." The red haired Holmes replied quickly his cool eyes focused on the dying Were.

 

Mycroft growled into his mobile, "Bring me the ones responsible."

 

Doctor Watson smiled down encouraging the struggling Wolf to keep breathing. "Listen it's not as bad as it looks mate. Came pretty damn close to some important pieces but nothing you can't handle. I'm going to keep pressure on this, and then an ambulance will come yeah, get you a transfusion. After a scan. You're going to be just fine old man. Just fine, just don't try to transform yet. You might open the wound more. Trust me I'm a doctor."

 

"Why are you helping me?" The Were grunted, his breaths choppy and wet.

 

John peaked at the wound, blood was steadily streaming out, too much, but he wouldn't allow his concern to show. "It's my job. Besides I need your help."

 

John felt the gray haired man stiffen, he assumed it was from the sudden pressure to the wound. 

"I think that idiot Dimmock mate scented me. Maybe you could have a chat with him yeah. Convince him I'm not the one." The blond man's easy smile relaxed the old Were, and for a moment he could see an old friend once more.

 

John heard the sound of a struggle just in the open doorway of the small flat. He kept his eyes on his patient, knowing that the two Vampires in the room would handle any situation.

 

~0~

 

Henriette heard the nearing ambulance, after she subdued the agent reading his gun to shoot at the vampire distracted by the bleeding wolf. "Two assassination attempts in one day Mycroft, you must have pissed someone off." Henriette tossed an unconscious would be assassin at the elder Vampire’s feet.

 

"You owe me." She hissed.

 

"Why did you come back?" Mycroft glared at her suspiciously, she was holding the commandeered weapon in her hand. He knew it to be a gun with silver bullets, one shot to chest and the poison would burn through an immortals veins, ending in a slow painful death.

 

Reading his thoughts she tossed the weapon at his feet. "We still have a deal. Don't worry I wont kill him. Besides using such a weapon would make it too easy to quick for him to die." She avoided turning towards the younger Holmes, avoiding acknowledging him all together.

 

To Mycroft's surprise his youngest brother didn't speak or try to attack, instead he kept a focused eye on the blond holding pressure to the Wolf's wound. Sherlock moved dangerously close to crouching blond Doctor. His hunger wouldn't be restrained much longer.

 

"If we're done mucking around, can someone let the paramedics in? " John snapped.

Mycroft studied the blond hunter's face, her smirk despairing from the ruby red lips. 

 

She looked to be in her early twenties, but there was no warmth in her ice blue eyes. Any humanity had been robbed from her, leaving an eternal winter, these same eyes narrowed on the blond human.

 

For a moment Mycroft could see the mortal girl from centuries ago, the anger, resentment and concern. Quickly the muscular form tensed and the rage of an arctic storm focused on him once more.

 

She was wearing tight black skinny jeans, black leather boots that reached her mid thigh and a leather biker jacket also black, how very stereotypical. Her blond hair was up in a high pony tail, her ruby red lips locked in a frown, once her skin had looked sun kissed but that had been when she was alive.

"Hey, blondie! Since you're new to the party could you please halt the death stares. It's getting cold in here, and let the medics in? Thanks."

 

John called over his shoulder "Really you vamps and your sense of priorities." He grumbled "Oi! You get back to the corner." John motioned with his head to the dark haired Holmes. " I won't have you going into a haze devouring, well me for one.  Since you're obviously to dense to eat when you should. It's no wonder your brother checks in on you."

 

Mycroft frowned studying the human's unamused expression, in another time he would have laughed. Sherlock actually followed the Doctor's orders.  It seemed that Sherlock wasn't the only one following commands today. Turning back he found that the Hunter was gone, only to repair escorting the paramedics into the room.

 

He read her frown, knowing she was attempting to read the stranger with no progress.

 

~0~

Henriette remained rooted to the place just near the door, the flood of memories were cold and quick like an avalanche. It roared to life and slowly she managed to push her thoughts away, however the low buzzing that was the reality of activity around her remained just barely background noise. The memory would not be denied, and she allowed her eyes to feast on the sight she only ever recalled with the faulty camera that was her mind. Sure she remembered great details, colors and long conversations. However faces, particularly Johann's  after a century or two, such crisp and clean detail was almost completely lost to her.  Nothing mattered, and this ghost that haunted every silence between the seconds of her long life, and he stood there directing these human medics. As if no time had ever passed, then just as casually he offered a smile, a genuinely kind smile to his patient, and warm eyes full of human concern turned in her direction.

The buzzing in her ears started to fade and the pain in her chest twisting sharp, old emotions she thought too long ago she had lost flared to life. And so followed the savage anger, what tricks were being played? A ferocious roar of outrage escaped her curled lips and she lunged for the blond human ready to snap the imposter's scrawny fragile neck!

It was unwise to taunt the living dead.

 


	5. Reaction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Memories of guilt.

_**Winter of 1448** _

 

“Mary, Mary Mary. That’s all you moan about! Johann shut up! I care nothing for sheepherder’s daughter.”

 

“He’s not a sheepherder!” Johann snapped. “And keep running!”

 

“What’s the use Johann. Why do we run? We can accept what they’ll offer. Uncle Moran already said, they’ll give us immortality.”

 

“Henry! You can’t be bloody serious! Come on! We need to keep moving. Mary’s father will have horses and supplies waiting for us.” The blond young man wearing winter clothes grabbed at his sister's heavy cloak. His breath like smoke in her face, and she pulled away, she was the eldest but as a female she would inherit nothing.

 

Johann was father’s son, and Mary would no doubt bring sons into the world. Knowing her own luck, and Henriette would be auctioned off to the highest male bidder. Or rather, suitor,whatever choice that pleased father. Like livestock she would be owned so that she could bring her husband sons. She would own nothing and be nothing, Uncle Moran promised something else.

 

“Leave me behind Johann.” She glared down at her slightly shorter brother, she of course was cursed with height and broad shoulders. Playing dainty maiden wasnt the life she could take. If only her brother would see this.

 

“They will either kill us both, force us to become blood dolls for whatever twisted monster they felt deserving in their master’s court or worse, turn us into one of them. We will lose our humanity, lose all that we are! Henry!”

 

“I’ll take my chances.” Henriette stepped back starting towards the direction of their pursuers.

 

“Idiot!” Johann growled. “You are a fool! Our father will be disgraced! “

 

“Piss on our father! It’s his fault he chose to harbor wolves on our lads!”

 

“It’s familial obligation-”

 

“You are too honorable for your own good Johann it will kill you one day. So go! Go! Find your dear sweet Mary, have a brood of sons and live a short life toiling under the sun-”

 

“Would you give up the sun so quickly? So easily! Give up your life.”

 

The blond tossed her long braid over her shoulder, “You first believe I have a life?”

 

“Please don’t do this Henry! I can’t let you-”

 

Too late the sound of dogs echoed in the distance, Johann felt his heart pounding in his chest. “Uncle is a traitor, mother said so before she was taken from us. They’ll turn us into blood dolls-”

 

“Go Johann, go! I don’t need you.”

 

“I can’t leave you! I wont let you die!” Henriette didn’t get a chance to reply before the horses circled the two. Three large silver haired wolves growled and took their places near the horses, the Were’s almost as big as the beasts bearing their masters.

 

“What have we got here? I do believe these two blood offerings meant to escape.” One of the vampire’s hissed. Henriette felt her brother try to step in front of her, as if he, a weaponless mortal could protect them.

 

“We are just humble travelers.” He tried to lie, “Thieves stole our horses-”

 

“You are an awful liar Johann McWalters.” The man with the dark hair and Gaelic accent spoke in a bored tone.

 

“Take them. Strip them of their outterwear. We will get such a prize for these two! Although I didn’t think it would be so boring finding them. I’m disappointed. Should we make them run and then chase them again?”

 

“Sir, Holmes will be riding out to meet us soon. Perhaps it’s best to-” One of the guards stated nervously.

 

“Yes, true. That Mycroft has no sense of humor at all. Well at least he’s given us the okay to take the Dolls we wish. “

 

Henriette watched the Gaelic speaking immortal dismount, he was tall and thin but not as tall as she.  His green eyes narrowed on her brother, he was sizing them up. The ruby red of his lips and expensive robes he wore gave him away as high ranking. Would he choose Johann over her? She wanted to be immortal, perhaps she could learn to fight and then be her own master.

 

“Do you know who I am?” The Gaelic man sighed, watching the cool wisps of air leave his lips and float upwards like smoke.

 

“You're the foulest of foul the lowest of low, a soulless monster that preys on the innocent and turns them into whores for your masters.”

 

“Oh, I like him. He’s feisty. He would be fun to train. And to break.” Moriarty was standing cupping Johann’s chin cruelly. “Yes, I think we should get started. I would start for every year that I’ve known you, by leaving my mark here.” The thin vampire with the emerald eyes and porcelain skin pulled Johann’s forearm out yanking the sleeve back happy to touch the warm skin. His mouth so close to the veins just at the struggling mortal’s wrist.” First introductions I think.” The vampire licked greedily running his teeth over the skin just enough to leave a mark but not draw blood, he smiled wickedly letting Johann have his arm back.

 

“I am a Doll Maker and these are my pets.” The Gaelic man wore thin robes as if it were summer, such greens matching his eyes gave him an angel’s face but his voice spoke of his lack of heart.

 

Henriette was transfixed, she could have such eternal beauty, men would fight for her hand and she would be in a place to deny them. “All the Blood Dolls we give away are happy with their masters. You will see this Johann.” The green eyes turned to the blond sister. “You will not do. I think just a little bit of time with your brother will do him some good, teach him manners and-”

 

“No. We will not have him tainted. Moriarty you heard my father’s command. He wants the McWalters untouched, for now. He’s a gift for Sherlock.” Henriette had been so transfixed with the idea of immortality she hadn’t even heard the approach of these vampires upon such beautiful steeds.

 

Henriette watched the newly arrived vampire with red hair and expensive red robes. This one was deadly and cold, his cold grey eyes studying the two. “My father has made his decision and you will follow those orders.”

 

“I could make him compliant.” Moriarty hissed causing Johann to tense, Henriette reached out to calm Johann before he did something stupid.

 

“Take them. “ The red haired vampire growled.

 

“This is not what you want!” Johann hissed at his sister.

“What would you know.” she whispered back, allowing herself to be pulled onto a horse without a fight.

  


That memory faded into the next, like the quilts her mother would hang in the summer sun to dry.

 

The final time she brought her brother back to her master he fought and struggled weakly, she had left the wolves to run. Thinking they would be captured later.

 

“I told you not to run little brother. Now your punishment will be worse.”

 

“Kill me or let me go!” Johann fought against her. “If you are still my sister, if there is an ounce of humanity left you will kill me! Or let me go.” It was Johann that pulled from her cruel grip, and she squeezed enough forgetting her strength the sound of his bone snapping should have sickened her but instead it angered her. He was so weak, and he cried out in pain from the new injury, one she inflicted.

 

“This is your fault! They send me to collect all lost things. You know this! Did you think you could go far? That I would go easy on you? Never think me weak Johann! I let those dogs go only because our Master wants you back! Those dogs wont get far, I’ll easily collect them by morning.”

 

“You are a devil then, soulless and only hell awaits you!” he shouted cradling his broken limb against his chest. She could smell Sherlock all over her brother, the savage bites on Johann’s bruised neck spoke of many things.

 

“Learn your place brother.” She hissed.

 

“I can forgive him because he has never known what it is to be human. He tries. I can forgive his brother Mycroft because he does what his father commands like any good son, I forgive Lestrade for running off. He craves his freedom and knows what it is to be locked away from the sun. I could not live on knowing I cost him his freedom. You, Henriette, you and I were raised by the same mother that was stolen and raped and by the same monsters that keep us. You and I ran through our father’s fields and sang the uneasy beasts in our barn to sleep. Have you forgotten the warmth of the sun? Of our father’s voice? Have you forgotten yourself?”

  
“You have pretty words brother but you are weak and I am strong. I don’t need your forgiveness and I damn your humanity.” She pulled him to his feet then up in front of her as she mounted her mare.

 

These memories fueled the anger that had her moving to kill the imposter, how dare they attempt to trick her. She knew he was gone. They murdered him. She murdered him, and nothing would bring him back.

 

And she would never truly know forgiveness.

 

**_~0~_ **

 

John didn’t have time to flinch away from the lunging blond assassin, then strange dark haired vampire was pulling him back moving with the speed only an immortal creature possessed John was pushed hard onto the couch and his defender tackled the tall muscular blond.

 

Her fangs exposed in a savage growl, too many vampires crowded the small room and John was being pulled to his feet and hurried out the door.

 

“Are you alright?” the dark haired vampire kept him close, hands cool and quick deftly moving over John’s body. First those icy hands cupped his face, whispering down his neck, and shoulders, slender fingers  danced over his chest and then wrapped around him checking his back. The taller man sniffed John for any sign of blood or distress.

 

Wide blue eyes only stared up into the immortal's concerned face. John stood with this face just inches from the vampire’s, and the sound of one hell of a fight in the room upstairs.

 

John wished his heart would calm but adrenaline was pumping through him and the scent of mint and something else clung to the air between the two men.

 

“We, should get to the hospital to check on your friend. I-I don’t know what’s going on but I’ll assume it’s a vampire thing.”

 

“Perhaps that’s best to assume.” Sherlock kept his hands on John’s hips, his eyes trying desperately to penetrate the mortal’s thoughts.

 

“Stop trying to read my mind.” John whispered.

 

“I can’t help it.” Sherlock replied in a similar tone, his lips almost touching John’s blond forehead.

 

“I wasn't kidding about you eating. It’s dangerous to allow yourself to go into starve mode. And why are we whispering?”

 

“I dont know you started it.” Sherlock replied a smile forming on his pale lips. “And I wasn't kidding when I asked if you were offering.”

 

John rolled his eyes, a shiver running up his spine, this was dangerous being so close to a hungry, flirty vamp but he wasnt afraid.

 

Sherlock could hear his brother’s angry voice pulling rank, it sounded as if Henriette or The Hunter as they called her, had calmed down.  His gray eyes fell on the marks lining John’s arms once more.

 

Hands skimmed over the scars, John didn’t pull away or flinch when Sherlock brought the pail forearm up to his lips “I wont allow anyone to hurt you John. Never again. Trust me?” He kissed the marks smoothing a thumb over the deep ridges.

 

“No.” John smiled sadly “You shouldn’t trust me.” He pulled away and broke whatever spell that had locked out the world around them. Holding his scarred arm to his chest.

 

“Mr. Holmes wishes you to come with me-” Mycroft’s hafling interrupted whatever argument the dark haired vampire was going to use.

  
“We are going to the hospital. He can meet us there. And if he could repair my flat before my landlady returns from visiting her sister. I would appreciate it. Do lock up after.  ” Sherlock's bored tone left no room for comment, and John held back the urge to laugh reading the irritable expression on the young dark haired woman's face. "Come along John." Sherlock gently but firmly took John’s hand leading him out the door. 


	6. Pact

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lestrade remembers, Henriette tried not to.

 

The wolf felt the fever contorting his body. He wanted to transform, he needed it. In this human form he would be too vulnerable, and this pain was unbearable. He felt himself struggling for air, was this to be his punishment for running?

 

~0~

 

"If he changes it could kill him!" John warned the young doctor on duty. The vampire rolled his eyes in response. He questioned John’s knowledge of these beasts.  John had too much experience patching wolves up, however he could never allow any to know.

 

The vampire continued to ignore John, until Sherlock barged into the room tired of _staying put_ as John had directed.  This doctor was an idiot, and an elitist. A quick perusal of said idiot’s thoughts proved him to care little for the wolf and it extended to allowing Lestrade to be in pain.

 

He wanted to tear the vampire apart and offer the blood to heal Lestrade. Perhaps if the John just stepped aside he could do just that.

 

"You're fired." Sherlock said without anymore action.

 

" Really and on whose authority?"

 

"Mine!" Mycroft snarled entering the room.

 

The vampire doctor froze in place he didn't need to be told who the ginger vampire was, scent alone spoke clearly.

 

John focused on the patient, ignoring the crowded room of angry vampires. The temperature dropping in the room was annoying and very distracting. Seriously it was neither the place nor the time for these territorial disputes.

 

“What kind of antibiotic is this?” Doctor Watson held the chart notes, flipping through the patient's medical history.

 

Sherlock ignored the scent of Wolf’s blood and focused instead on John’s sweet scent.  He observed the way the blond mortal moved around the bed, his hands never shaking. His  left arm held several crescents, easily distinguished as bite marks. Nothing elegant and consensual but cruel and meant to teach pain.  Such practices were considered barbaric and taboo.

 

The dark haired vampire felt a sudden surge of anger and possessiveness for the mortal.

 

Who dared touch John in such a way? Those gray eyes observed every movement, the ease in which those hands gently calmed the wheezing and delirious old Were.

 

Sherlock’s eyes locked on John’s warm sun kissed skin, no tan below the wrist, and other scars lined his  right arm. Small perfect circular burns. These were done by another hand, one with little pressure but enough to cause the pain intended. These scars were old, almost as old as the cruel bite marks. Such burns were given to John as a child, but why? They weren’t punishment, if they were made to punish then other scars would line the young mortals arm.

 

On instinct the vampire felt himself move closer to the blond as the angry Vampire Doctor snapped at John for taking Lestrade’s medical chart.

 

“Oh God!” John was pulling the IV out and hitting the call button, ignoring the imbecile that dared make a grab for him.

  
Mycroft allowed Sherlock to corner the incompetent immortal Doctor, his gray eyes flickering over the gray haired Were’s flushed body. The monitors were singing and Mycroft could sense something was off, especially when the gray haired Detective Inspector was fighting for air.

 

“What’s wrong? What’s happened?”

 

“I need Epeniphrine! Now!” John ordered the nurse entering, she looked to the dark haired doc ignoring John.

 

“Do as he says!” Mycroft snarled and she was hurrying out, several others were rushing in. The younger Holmes couldn’t help but stand off in the corner keeping the dark haired Doctor pinned there.

 

He kept  out of John’s way and Mycroft was exiting the room, leaving Sherlock to keep order.

 

It was unnecessary, because John Watson a mortal man and Doctor took charge. He was confident and in control and just for a moment Sherlock broke through unnoticed into John’s thoughts.

 

He caught a brief glimpses of injured men behind bars, as if in cages. Then another quick snap to an army field hospital, soldiers in uniform calling for help. The scent of Wolf blood was turning his stomach and there was a buzzing in his ears.

 

He could hear John’s thoughts; _No one will die today. I wont let you die. Just hang in there mate. God, this was on purpose no one can make this type of mistake. I have to get out of here. What if they are coming for me? Did I bring this trouble? No, no focus John you didn’t bring this trouble it was already happening. It’s Sherlock’s brother. Mycroft. He said his name was Mycroft. This attack was meant to kill. It’s dangerous. Just fix him up, fix up Lestrade. You owe his pack, they were kind, they took you in._

 

“There you go, deep breaths Greg. You’re okay mate. It’s alright, just take a deep breath. “ John combed his fingers through the wolf's hair. “You can’t transform it will injure you more. Just let this heal, you’re a tough one old man.”

 

“Johann.” The Were managed to gasp.

 

“No, Greg, it’s John. Nice to meet you.”

 

“I’m sorry. I was coming back.” Lestrade’s voice was like sand in a sieve.

 

“It’s alright. Now. You need some rest. And a transfusion-”

 

“No! No! No blood-I am free-”

 

“Ssssh. Now Greg, I’ll see if I can find someone in the pack with your blood type. No vampire blood. I promise not without your consent “

 

“I trust you, god help me I do.” Lestrade released John’s forearm. “And I swear I came back but you were gone-”

~0~

 

Lestrade found himself locked in that memory, in that old nightmare that pressed on his honor. That guilt that soiled his hands and left him unable to ever repair a broken promise.

 

“We can’t move fast with the human! He stinks of them! He’s marked!” One of the female wolves snapped, her red rimmed eyes squinted against the light of the moon. Long shaggy hair uncontrolled and uncombed. Her bruised face pinched, and strong shoulders tense, each Were wore the prisoners plain brown tunic and short trousers. Feet bare and muddied from their travels.

 

“It’s true! We can’t be slowed! We had the day on our side but the sun has gone down!” Another frantic plea from a young dark haired male, a long ugly scar marring his once youthful appearance.

 

“I wont be brought back!” The female said no more dashing blindly into the thick of the forest leaving the small group behind. Lestrade could tell the young man wanted to follow but remained behind.

 

Lestrade glared at the remaining pack, “Are you forgetting he helped us gain our freedom? I promised! I gave my word to this boy to help him reach freedom. If you cowards wish to go then go! Have at it, your chances are just as slim without us. He knows these lands, and the safe places. You forget so easily what debt we owe. He’s scarred just as we. Anyway we are all too weak to transform we need his knowledge-” They all stood lost, their senses dulled from captivity.

 

“No. It’s fine. I can draw a map. Go without me.” Johann leaned against a tree trying to catch his breath. His bruised face pressing into the rough bark.

 

“No. Johann a promise is a promise and I never go back on my word.”

 

“Have it your way fools. I’m going south, and putting as much distance between me and this plaything to the vamps.” The bald older man swore angrily, squinting his good eye at Lestrade and the blond mortal.

 

“He’s bleeding Greg.” The female with the messy blond braid pointed out, “Henrick is right.  He’ll slow us down. And we can’t go back.” Just like that the two were rushing off without a glance back.

 

Lestrade growled at the small group of three remaining. “The old Gods will curse you and your honor!” he shouted at the retreating forms.

 

A short haired brunette female smiled sadly on the two, “ Gods will damn us indeed and our punishment shall be a long life without honor. But a long life it will be.”

 

The young brunette frowned backing up slowly ignoring the challenging glare from the older graying wolf.

 

“You forget Lestrade it’s his precious master that kept us locked up! Denied us sunlight, moonlight and freedom. They made us fight for their amusement! Killed and stole our mates and pups. Some of our family was forced bonded. He didn’t have it so bad! He doesn't know bad! He was given clothes and a soft bed to sleep, hell I bet they fed him well enough while we fought for table scraps! ” This came from a hard looking gray haired male. Lestrade recalled the vamps called him The Panther, but that wasn't his name. His caramel skin was lined with thick scars and Lestrade could see the years of captivity had taken it’s toll. The Were was quiet until then, and his eyes held an unease and distrust.

 

“ I don’t know? I don’t know?” Johann stood now facing the others.

“ When I was eleven the doll makers came to our village raped and murdered my mother. Then at twenty five, they burned my village, murdered my father. They have taken from me my own sister. I was forced to answer to my master whenever he craved my attention. He took my blood without consent, and when I ran they cut the tendon of my left foot. I may not have been starved but I’ve been denied light. I was forced to tend all of you just so you would be well enough to fight again. I don’t think them all evil just misguided. I killed Victor Trevor for betraying us, I could have run and left you in your cages to your fate. I asked for this as much as you. Look what they’ve done-” Johann pulled back his cloak revealing his bruised arms. Several marks where he was held down and fed off of lined his arms and neck. “I have a wife I wish to return to. I want my freedom as much as you.” The blond tried to catch his breath, he held a hand to his side, his ribs most likely broken.

 

“I miss the warmth of the sun.” He turned into the tree he was leaning into. “I miss my wife’s golden hair, her laughter and the smell of baking bread. I worked my father’s fields and healed his animals. I was a simple man once. I won't slow you down. I won't hold it against you. Just ru-”

 

“I don’t suggest any of you run!” The wolves growled in unison at the vampire with long blond hair in a tight braid moved like a breeze. Silent and effortless, she was holding her sword out, the blade caught the light of the moon through the trees. Her sharp eyes narrowing in on her prey, a grin on her porcelain face, at her side her horse. No one moved, their senses so dulled they hadn’t even caught a whiff of their tracker and her large Wolves.

 

“Yes, I’ve brought some of your brethren to help hunt you all down. It wasn’t hard. You all reek of pathetic desperation!” In response the large Wolves just to her right growled, howling from their positions.

 

The weak Weres could only look on frozen in fear. “They are under orders to listen to my commands, I could have them attack.”

 

“No! Henriette! Let them go. You don’t want them. You’ve come for me let them go!” Johann took a step forward, swaying slightly.

 

“Oh, so noble little brother.” She hissed moving forward, the Gray haired Were growled keeping himself between her and her prize.

 

“Oh, look Johann you have found yourself a loyal pet.”

 

“Lord Sherrinford isn’t too happy with you releasing his prize fighters, however from the looks of them they are on their last legs.”

 

“Let them go. Just look the other way Henry.” Johann took a deep breath limping forward.

 

Lestrade stayed at his side, but Johann waved him off.

 

“Go.” he whispered.

 

“No. I promised to help you. To return you safely. “

 

“I am the one who killed Trevor. I let the Wolves out. Just let them go. Henry.” Johann tried to step away from Lestrade’s supporting hands.

 

The young blond healer turned to the group, “Run.” The group didn’t hesitate, they fled without a glance back, all except for Lestrade.

 

“She’s my sister. She won’t hurt me. I’ll meet you where we agreed. Please find my Mary. I’ll be close behind.”

 

“I promised to-”

 

“Freedom calls to you. And I will not be far behind.”

 

“I’ll go, but if you aren’t where you say by sun up I shall circle back around to collect you. I promised.”

 

Johann watched his friend disappear into the thick wooded area, Henry called her restless wolves to heal. “We’ll make it a fun hunt, let’s get this one back before the sun comes up and the others we’ll make sport of.”

 

The Wolves threw their heads back in agreement and followed the vampire’s commands.

 

Lestrade had stood there just in the shadow hearing the argument between siblings torn between freedom and honor, he like a coward chose to run. He would come back, as soon as he found his pack he would return and rescue the young mortal.

 

~0~

 

PRESENT

 

Henriette awoke in a dark room with what she guessed to be a silver plated door. Rolling her eyes she stood briefly swaying, the bastards had drugged her. It was no matter she would be released and then she would continue her mission. That imposter she would find him and gut him.

 

She would find a way around this damn pact! She wanted Sherlock dead, now more so than ever. How dare they! Johann was dead and they thought what? They could get some imposter to take his place?

 

Mary didn’t have any children, she killed herself before the baby could be born. There was nothing left of the McWalters line, nothing but dust and hazed memory.

 

“Let me out!” She slapped her hands against the hard door, ignoring her burning hands. The memory of long ago played again, the one where she was unable to do anything but clutch at the silver bars, screaming for her brother. Screaming while he was devoured and drained of his life force.

  


To her surprise the door did open this time and the dark haired halfling stood on the other side. “If you are through with your tantrum I have been instructed to free-”

 

Henriette grabbed the young one by her throat forcing her against the corridor wall, stepping out of the locked room she growled. “You tell your master the trick he is playing is dangerous. I will finish hunting the Doll Makers. And after, we will need to rethink this pact. I don’t know what game he hopes to play but I will not be made a fool! If I see that human I will kill him. And if Sherlock says my brother’s name just once I wont be held responsible for what I do next.”

  
The assassin released the youngling and moved down the dimly lit corridor without another word.


	7. unlocked

****  
  


Richard wasn’t looking forward to guard duty but an order was an order. Lestrade had gotten himself mixed up with vamps. Richard personally loathed vamps, and he hated the Holmes family more than most. He had the scars to remind him every day exactly why Vampires could never be trusted. In his youth he had escaped a fate worse than death, and he vowed to someday pay back the loss of his honor. Protecting Lestrade was a start. Richard after all wasn’t the scared pup anymore, he was a protector and an enforcer.  This alliance was growing tiresome, after this attack on a Wolf as well known as Gregory Lestrade should prove enough to call off all promises.

They should take the thin pieces of parchment and burn them, the old noble blood lines weren’t so well respected these days. Playing lap dog for the Vampire elite, disguising it as a truce. Truce be damned he wouldn’t be taking orders from the blood sucking bastards. Never again.

He walked into an argument between Lestrade’s pack and two of the Holmes vamps. His partner rolled his eyes and Richard glared at the Vamps the scar on his face burning as a reminder of the old days. Something he could never forgive. Not while his brethren were still blood bonded to these cold demons.

He stepped around Lestrade’s small pack of Scotland Yarders. Pups, none were even close to the years he was. Pups, but useful and loyal. Something Richard could respect.  

"This is a hospital! Not a place for such things!" A female Were doctor with blond hair and a white coat hissed a warning at the pack and vampires.

" I will have Lestrade moved to a secured area where he will receive the best care." The ginger haired vamp straightened his grey suit and glared down his pointy nose at the wolves looking reading to pounce. Of course it was Mycroft Holmes to say this. Richard bared his teeth in response to the vampire’s stink. Lestrade wouldn't be going anywhere with a Holmes, and Richard had been given permission to keep the silver haired Were under his protection.

"Oh, yes we are aware of **_the care_** you Holmes Vamps are willing to give." Richard knew it was a cheap shot but it was true.

The scarred Were allowed the pleasure of interrupting the smug cold demon to show, it felt wonderful to interrupt, “And I think we can take it from here Mr. Holmes. The White Council will wish a word with your Red Council. And until Lestrade is well enough to give an account of the situation we will move him to a more secure area and he will be under our protection.” Again enjoying the feeling of elation as he handed the elder Holmes the official paperwork.

"This is just ridiculous! Everyone shut up and Greg is not moving. Will you lot just calm down and let the staff do their jobs."

The enforcer took a step back unable to think. He couldn't believe his eyes. Just for a moment he was back in his cage and the blond blood slave was unlocking the door.   _ **I told you we’re all getting out of here.**  _Richard had committed to memory the human's face, the sound of his voice every detail had been burned to his memory.

It was a young and a terrified Richard that timidly stepped out into the fresh air. He trusted the human who led the way, unlocking cages as they went.

Then came the moment when the scarred pup was faced with the choice to run or stay and fight. 

The blood slave had said to run, and gods forgive him Richard had done just that. Later he learned that young house slave was returned to his vampire master and  destroyed. He had a hatred for these demons, but today, somehow that same boy was still alive. A human, not dead, still alive. It couldn’t be. Could it? Could he forgive him for his running?

"Move aside doc! You've been bewitched." A dark skinned Were meant to grab for the blonde's arm. Richard reacted just as the younger Holmes did, with a snarl and quick response.

**_~0~_ **

John wasn't prepared to be manhandled by the unknown dark suit wearing wolves.  The two had been standing and arguing with the Holmes brothers. The brunette with a deep scar running from his left cheek across the young looking Wolf’s thin lips only to disappear somewhere under his collared shirt held out some papers to Mycroft.

John hated politics, and right now Greg needed his rest, the Yarders needed to go and the Vamps needed to calm down. When the blond Doctor stepped out to demand just this all hell broke loose.

The two sides, Sherlock and the unknown Wolf with the scar had taken an arm and John knew what a wishbone felt like.

“Let go.” The blond hissed. “I said let go!” No one moved Sherlock only glared at the brunette with the scar and vice verse.

“God help us.” John pulled his arms loose, “Listen. That man in there is healing slowly, if you want to help I suggest you donate some blood.” The mortal turned around to glare at Sherlock “And you stop being so damn territorial. And like I said, he can’t be moved. Take up post or whatever. But DI Lestrade needs peace and quiet! You with me.” John grabbed Sherlock’s arm dragging him away from the group of silenced wolves and a shocked Mycroft.

“John?”

“Don’t play dumb, we had an agreement.” John huffed, leading Sherlock to the blood bank. Unaware of the attention that he managed to draw to him. The young vampire at his side took a step closer in response to the sudden attention, his hand wrapped quickly around John's forearm. 

“Sherlock, you can let go of my arm.” John gave another tug as they rounded a corner. “Wolves don’t scare me, it’s your lot that-well anyway. Uh, can I have my arm back?” John was frowning, and Sherlock released him, astonished that he had been in fact holding John’s forearm.

“I apologize John-”

“No hard feelings. I think you should just take it easy now.” The good doctor turned and politely smiled at the young human behind the glass window. “O negative please, three bags and warm it to a nice 98 degrees if you would.” She smiled and nodded and John lead a still silent Vampire into one of the private feeding rooms.

“Sit! And she’ll bring you something to drink. You’ll drink it and then you can march off and do whatever it is you do.”

“I’m not hungry.” Sherlock half huffed half growled folding his arms across his chest.

“Don’t care. You’ll eat.”

Sherlock wanted to say more but the short haired brunette woman entered in her perfect white lab coat carrying two warm bags with a straw punched into the pouch.

“Poor dear looks half starved. Let me know if you need another.” John thanked her and offered the blood to the vamp.

“Drink.”

“Move in with me.”

“Drink. And no.” Sherlock ignored the pack being held out to him, his eyes instead focused in on the perfect wrist. John’s pulse beat was singing and it called to him. The predator shook himself out of the haze that threatened.

“I’m not hungry-”

  
“Don’t be a child. Drink.”

“Say you will move in. I need to protect you. Those wolves as you can see aren't exactly the best-”

Sherlock’s argument was cut short when to his surprise the blond human forced the open bag to his opened mouth and squeezed the blood until it spilled over onto his bottom lip. The vampire’s nostrils flared and on reflex he drank greedily. Little did the human know, that when the vampire clasped his eyes shut, he was pretending that it was the Doctor’s wrist he drank from instead of a plastic bag.

The younger Holmes couldn’t say when John left but he knew when he had. The room felt emptier and the warmth had been sucked from his lungs. He hated feeding after a long bout of fasting, his transport always fell into this stupor, this food coma, for lack of better word.

Now he was in a sterile feeding room laying back on a uncomfortable bed and John was gone. Gone.

Just like Johann had gone, runaway. They always ran away.

The taste of blood was thick on Sherlock’s lips and heavy in his full belly. The sounds, the echos of slurping and the life draining from his prey pounded in his head.  No. Johann was dead, he died. Sherlock murdered him, but John wasn’t dead. There was no body! To confirm this the vampire scanned the small room, finding no evidence of John’s demise.

The words of John’s doppelganger hit him again, echoing through the halls of his mind palace. **_“Sherlock if only someone loved you.”_**

__****  
  
  


He tore open the door to the private white walled room, expecting it to be locked.

“Woah, where’s the fire?” John nearly collided with the tall wild eyed Vampire.

“Johann-”

“Sherlock?” John yawned, stepping back.

“John. I thought-” Sherlock’s voice as halting and he hated how the words were escaping from his usually reserved mind palace.

“Sorry mate, I had to use the mens. I thought you would be alright just sleeping. You look as if you could use the rest. Anyway did you need something? More blood? The way you were feeding after five bags-”

“Five?” Sherlock found it disturbing that he remembered none of this.

“Right. You need some rest. Your brother has Lestrade under a watchful eye. Lots of guards, and the DI’s own pack are hanging about. I think it’s safe to return you home before the dawn. Then you can get a proper day’s rest.”

“John I am not a newling. I can walk in the sun.”

“Well good for you. I however have worked nights and I’m dead on my feet. So, I don’t fancy returning to the empty wolf den. Don’t give me that look you smug bastard. I’m not moving in with you. I’m just hoping to avoid an awkward conversation between a certain wolf and myself. So I’ll take you up on that extra room but only for tonight.”

Sherlock nodded, regaining his composure, John was going home with him. Willingly. John would be sleeping at the flat, upstairs in the extra room but he was going to be in the flat for the day. He would be filling up the empty spaces of Sherlock’s mind palace with that delicious scent and his beautiful smile.

_**~0~** _

Sherrinford swore under his breath, the damn assassins failed, they failed and his middle brother was still alive. Cursed Mycroft,  he had the luck of a cat, and the smug bastard knew it.

The interesting turn up was how concerned the supposed Iceman was for the injured wolf. It would be fun to test just how concerned his brother could be.

And what was this? Sherlock was smiling at a human? Indeed it was a night of surprises, and look it’s a blond. Sherlock was always partial to blondes, this one was probably another one of his brother’s drug addicts.

Perhaps he could slip the addict some pure cocaine and watch his brother overdose after feeding on such toxic levels.

No, no wait, it doesn't smell tainted? Odd.

Sherrinford slipped back into the corridor unnoticed observing the short blond next to his youngest brother. The voice, that face, it couldn’t be. Johann died, and he had made sure every last drop was emptied from him. Moriarty had taken care of the mortals beloved as well, well the bitch had been turned and she took it upon herself to walk into the sun.

This mortal, he looked so much like Johann, the older vamp wondered if he tasted the same.

The human and his youngest brother were heading to the blood bank, curious. Sherrinford signaled for his men to follow and just observe.

He needed to speak to his other brother, the more annoying of the two. Mycroft was cold and his icy core was hard to crack. The one weakness being the youngest Holmes, perhaps he should concentrate more on weakest link.

Sherrinford smiled to himself glancing back at the heavily guarded door where the wolf was reportedly hanging on to life, like a dog would to a bone. This could be fun.

 


	8. Old tricks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock compares Johann to John unintentionally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the delay on this story. here's another chapter thanks for reading and reviewing :) i appreciate the encouragement! Here's some dub/con. Trigger warnings...tags people tags. yikes. You can find me on tumblr...tumbling around...lol :) Marylousfanfictionspace.

John removed his borrowed shoes and happily accepted a borrowed pair of flannel pajama bottoms and a plain gray shirt.

“These weren't used in that bacterial experiment where they?” Sherlock looked startled by John’s easy grin. The poor vampire was worse off than John had first thought, he was in a daze.

**~0~**

“Not bacterial-” Sherlock managed to snap back with his own slow almost shy grin, one that made John blush. The room felt alive when the human did that, it wasn't a painful reaction or forced reply. No, John genuinely smiled at Sherlock .

There was an urge a desire deep within in him to take John, to drain him and turn him.

This impulse was so strong that Sherlock jumped back as if slapped, his fangs retracting. John wasn't afraid, he had that concerned look in his blue eyes, he took a step towards the beast.

Sherlock wanted to scream, wanted to warn the human, warn John with his fragile existence, his flesh made of light and sun. He wanted to tell this delectable thing to run, and never set foot in London. However Sherlock Holmes was a coward and he was addicted to the presence of this stranger.

“Sherlock? Mate? You alright? “

“Yes, fine.” Why did he sound so breathless, John took another step closer, did the man have no sense of self preservation?

He was a sacrificial lamb that once released from it’s doom was just going back to the alter.

“Nope, pupils dilated, your fangs are retracted. Come on. You need to rest.”

Sherlock flinched when John’s hand took his forearm again, so warm and firm. Just like John must feel, warm and deliciously firm.

“Sherlock?” John tapped the vampire’s nose snapping him back into focus. “Yup, you definitely need to sleep. Come on then. Down the stairs.”

“I-know the way.” Sherlock pulled himself back. “I-goodnight John.” Sherlock with the speed of a vampire left John standing in the doorway of the small room.

**~0~**

The blond doctor shook his head and returned to dressing into his sleepwear.  He really needed to just pass out, today had been difficult. And why was he here? It was dangerous to be around a vampire, especially in light of recent events.

This vampire had a desperate sadness to him, John couldn't explain it but he didn't feel any threat from the tall thin immortal. John really shouldn't be flirting with danger, but damn if danger wasn't the most beautiful man/immortal he had ever seen.

**_~0~_ **

Sherlock sat near the dying fire, his hands clutched the tops of his knees. The vampire took deep breaths, but the scent of John had taken root in his chest, in his lungs in his very skin.

Johann’s disapproving face took over the image of John’s easy grin. Johann with his brooding and constant hatred, he had reason. And John would hate Sherlock as well. If only someone loved you. His mother had said it and Johann and just about everyone in Sherlock’s circle.

He wasnt looking for love, not from anyone, love or sentiment or pity. He didn’t need it, he had logic and cunning not to mention the strength of an old immortal.

He had shown such strength in regards to Johann, yet Johann had never belonged to him. As much as he compelled and drugged his blood slave, Johann still fought him everyday. Hearts were funny things with humans, they could be so fragile and so damn stubborn.

Johann loved Mary, he loved her until the end of times. A mortal that stunk of sheep and rolls in the hay. She was foul and imperfect, so human and she was what Johann pinned for.

Sherlock glared into the dimming flames, dimming like the light in a dying man’s eyes.

**_~0~_   
**

**_THE PAST 1448_ **

“I want to go home! You obviously don’t want a blood doll. Just look the other way. ” Johann pleaded. “Why can’t you feed on animals?”

“I want to go home.” Sherlock snapped tossing away another  annoyingly boring book from him. “That’s all you moan and cry about. It’s giving me a headache. Now come here so that I may do what you are good for.”

“No.” Johann searched wildly for an exit or something to use as a weapon. Every time it came down to this the two had the same argument and it always ended in bruises and blood for the human. Yet he stubbornly refused to give in willingly.

Sherlock growled, his dilated eyes hazing with hunger, he had gone a week now. Father said to feed or he would force his son in someway, and the elder did have his ways.

“Come here. Stop being so foolish.” Sherlock snapped.

“NO! Piss off!” the blond kept the large table cluttered with vials and books between them.

“Johann.” The vampire dropped his voice to a low seductive baritone.

“No!” the human clasped his eyes shut desperately grabbing for something on the table. “You’re compulsion or glamour won't work on me again!”

“Johann, I’m not going to hurt you. Just come here. I can make it enjoyable again. Like the last time, you liked it.”

“I didn’t. I was hypnotized.” the human flung a container filled with an unknown liquid at the vampire. The acid burned and temporarily caused the vampire to step back rubbing at his eyes.

“That wasn’t very wise.”

Johann dove for the door, he had been slowly inching towards. Spring was here, he could easily find his way home.

“You can’t compel me if I don’t look into your demon eyes you soulless bastard.”

Sherlock was young and the challenge was unwelcome, he lunged with the speed of his immortality and strength. Easily catching the human around his fragile neck.

“You are mine!” He snarled pulling the struggling blond against him. It was always too easy. The pressed body fought pathetically, only arousing the vampire’s most baser of instincts.

“No!” Johann panted and the fangs pierced the pulse point, his struggles became less and less.

Sherlock pulled on the vein, feeling the heartbeat slow. Johann tasted of the earth he toiled, of honeysuckle and cream. Delicious,and addicting, that was Johann McWalters.

Then he would moan, the act of taking a vein had that side effect on humans, willing or not. Arousal, and Sherlock enjoyed this pleasurable reaction. His victim was so pliant, and hard. Wanting the release, and the vampire hungered for his own.

“You want this.” The monster hissed running his fangs over the shell of the panting human’s ear.  

“Nuh, umm.” Was the breathless response from the twitching human.

“Even now you try to fight. You feel what you do to me.” Sherlock pressed himself harder, enjoying the feel of his erect cock digging into Johann’s back. To his delight the weakened human pressed back, and groaned once more.

This was how it always ended, and Sherlock took what was being offered, coerced and completely without consent.

It was quick, he had to be before his prey came around to his senses.

The vampire this time would take his blood doll hard belly down on the now cleared table. First with a snarl he ripped the human’s trousers. That would be the sixth pair in two weeks.

This time he wouldn't make his victim ready, not after the acid incident. The human was lucky Sherlock had yet to mix silver compounds into the potion.

He said as much as he pushed into the unprepared hole, enjoying the gasp and the tightening around his thick member.

“You have been bad Johann. I can’t say I don’t like the little challenges you construct. It does grow boring at times.”

Johann gasped again, “Please.”

“Please what?”

Sherlock growled pushing himself forward until his balls slapped hard against the beautifully pale globes of Johann's tightening ass.

His hands would bruise the skin just at the hip, and if he wanted to drag it out, there would be bruises else where.

“I hate you.”  Johann gasped as the immortal with his cold hands continued to invade and push himself to the hilt. Teeth biting down on the muscular shoulder with a hungry growl. “I hate you.” The man beneath the vampire whimpered before spilling onto the table, when Johann came around he would hate Sherlock. It would be there in his words and his glaring eyes. 

_**~0~** _

**_PRESENT_ **

Sherlock tore out of this memory standing up with such a force his chair tipped backwards. He growled with disgust running his hands through his disheveled curls.

This is what made him a monster, he enjoyed what illusion of happiness he had with Johann. It was completely one sided, and he had centuries to figure it out, too many years to be haunted by the actions of a spoiled compulsive child, all his actions.

He started to pace, his hands shaking, he needed a fix, needed to quiet these thoughts. It would be easy to find a drug den, he of course knew all the right spots. He could just go, purchase the drugs required to coax another into giving his vein over. The spill of blood laced heavily with the rich chemicals of heroin or cocaine, would lull him into a stupor. The feeling of numb could be welcomed.

Sherlock started towards the door ready to do just this when a sound from upstairs halted him in his steps.

The sound came again, muffled distress, and it was coming from upstairs. John? Something was very wrong, John was in trouble! Was someone attacking? How could they get in without Sherlock’s knowing. Damn him and his distractions!

“John?” Sherlock headed up the stairs forgetting his need for a fix, nothing mattered except John. He reached the door to John’s room hearing a choked sob he pushed in without a knock or any kind of warning.

The small lamp light the room in a dim glow, eyes shot towards the bed where John was laying his head moving side to side, a quick glance at the window and it was shut. The room was empty?

The dark haired vampire realized that John was having a nightmare. The sounds he made were pitiful and disturbing. It caused the vampire’s stomach to turn.

He focused on the man struggling in his sleep, the old cotton gray sheets and matching duvet twisted around John’s thin body. His shirt had come up to reveal a muscular torso, there were several scars there licking the skin with white lines.

So many stories could be told with scars, Sherlock had once written an paper on such things.

“No-” John gasped his hands clutching the sheet and duvet at his side. Sherlock placed a hand on the blond meaning to wake him, when a flood of images struck him like heavy bricks.

“You’ve been a bad one Johnny boy. The boss isn’t too happy.” A vampire with a smoker’s voice spoke with a falsely apologetic. “We get to punish you however we like, as long as we leave you intact.”

John was young, Sherlock could read that much, these two  men dressed in cheap suits towered over him. One of the men had a rather nasty Glasgow smile. For some reason Sherlock thought he knew the bald monster.

The other was laughing with his rigid teeth sharp and eyes hungry, this one was a Bleeder. The Vampire knew by the tell tale teeth and the sunken in cheek bones. Those red rimmed eyes bloodshot and crazed, licking his lips hungrily.

“Watch the door, I don’t want this one running like last time. He needs a lesson in obedience.”  The vampire removed the black belt around his waist, a mad smile on his face.

“Come here boy and don’t you run. You know we always catch you. This is going to hurt either way. Now come here.”

Sherlock couldn’t bare to watch, his own anger flaring, he pushed the memory/nightmare out of his mind. Shaking hands gripped the trembling human’s shoulders.

“John. Wake up.” It was no use the young doctor was drowning fast, his breaths coming in sobs and gasps. Sherlock on reflex pulled the struggling blond into his arms.

With a deep breath he found himself entering John's dream. This was a trick he had learned and perfected over the years, never before was he more grateful for a seemingly useless talent. Especially now that he found himself standing beside a small blond child, the boy looked over at him with terror filled blue eyes.

“John this is just a dream.” Sherlock kneeled down his knees cold against the cement of this cell like room. The boy pushed himself flat against the cement wall inching away from Sherlock. The two men still casting a long shadow over the pair.

“John you need to wake up. They can’t hurt you.” Sherlock tried to keep his voice even but the child was focused on the men in front of him.

“It’s going to hurt Johnny. No sense in running. If you’re nice to me I can make it quick.” The boy shook his head no, in response, and Sherlock wanted to rip the men apart. To tear them to shreds, he could, seeing how he had managed to project himself into John’s dreams.

The room was starting to stink, and the consulting detective easily deduced this was a room John knew well.

“John. I wont let them hurt you.” Sherlock turned to these two figures, the monsters paid no attention to him.

“No. No.” The boy was sobbing, and Sherlock took a step closer to him, the bruises were there and he knew from the emotion the boy was letting off that he was in pain.

Was this what John dreamed most nights? Who were these men, why was the child locked in a cell?  So many questions but Sherlock couldn't explore it for too long, the bald vampire wrapping a belt around his meaty fist was advancing, and Sherlock attacked viciously.

The nightmare vampire disappeared as did the Bleeder, leaving the boy crouched in a corner sobbing.

“John.” Sherlock placed a hand on the boy’s trembling shoulders.

Just like that the human awoke with a startled gasp, his breathing heavy and brow soaked in sweat.

“Sherlock?” John clung to the expensive silk of the vampire’s shirt.

“Sssh, John sleep.” The vampire compelled, and in John’s half awake state he was open to suggestion. “Sorry, if I woke you.” The blond panted his eyelids still heavy.

“You didn’t wake me, I don’t sleep.” Sherlock whispered in a deep baritone. The human sighed heavily as if ready to chastise the vampire for such a thing, but Sherlock cut him off. “Sleep John. You’re safe here.”

“Safe here.” John mumbled. “With you.” his head fell forward against Sherlock’s chest.

  
The vampire moved himself to lay next to the small human unwilling to dislodge the clinging hands or the strong leg that somehow wedged itself between his own. John was curling into him, the blond’s face still buried against Sherlock’s chest. The sun was starting to peek through the dark curtains and Sherlock started to nod off as well. Odd this effect the human had on him. Let John hate him tomorrow night when he wakes, but for now Sherlock would enjoy this.


	9. In DREAMS

John fell into a dream, one that pushed the fear behind him and moved on past the dark that threatened to drown him when he slumbered.

He found himself instead standing in a field of tall wheat, the sun was high in the sky. He moved his hands over the soft flowered tips. The sound of birds were sharp and so very real. Even the scent of the air, fresh and humid. It was too real for a dream. He moved through the wheat. There were no planes in the sky, no sounds of cars in the distance. “Johann!”

John turned, hearing Sherlock’s deep voice. “No! Fuck off!” The words weren’t his, they came from someone he hadn’t noticed. Someone standing next to him. Had he always been there? The blond had slightly longer hair, his skin was more tanned. He obviously worked outside. Even his clothes were the common browns you saw in medieval pictures. A simple beige tunic and brown short pants.

John could see the anger in the younger man, his skin was bruised and the Doctor in him reached out. “You’re hurt.”

The well toned figure turned to John, shaking his head. “I’m not here. I’m a ghost. You should go before you’re next. Monsters, the lot of them. Monsters you have never known. They will take you away from the light and the warmth and bleed you until there isn’t anything of you left. Just an empty shell. Run.”

“Johann!” The deep baritone was more commanding and John wanted to investigate just where the sound came from, it sounded like Sherlock.

“Sherlock?” John stepped forward. There was shade by several trees just at the edge of a thick forest.

“Don’t call to it! Fool!”  The blond hissed his eyes darting from the shade to John.

“Who are you?”

“It’s too late.” Johann shook his head. “It’s too late.” The sun was no longer in the sky and John felt a shiver run up his back.

And the figure moved like a blur towards them. John was too afraid to move and the blond at his side was tackled.

John watched horrified as the beast lunged at the defenseless boy, all teeth and snarling. “Stop! You’re killing him!” John looked for something to hit the vampire with. Then those eyes were on him, the blood furied eyes and the blood smeared face.

“Sherlock?” John took a step back.

The vampire’s teeth retracted and he blinked, looking dazed from the body in his arms to the Doctor in front of him.

“John-”

John took a step back. “Just let him go.” John urged his heart pounding in his ears.

“John. I never wanted to hurt him. I’m sorry. This is what I am.”

John flinched. “Is this a dream?” The sky was brighter, predawn was coming.

“Yes.” Sherlock swallowed, laying the body down gently, wiping the blood from his mouth with the back of his sleeve.

“Yours or mine?” John already knew the answer.

Sherlock kept looking at the motionless figure. John wanted to help bring the boy back but he knew instinctively that he was dead.

John sat up finding himself in an empty room, the clock on the dresser reading 9pm. so he had slept eight hours.

He frowned, glancing around the empty room. Everything was neatly in it’s place, the gray walls held no pictures and John listened for any sounds in the house. Rolling out of bed, his bare feet padded across the soft carpet and into the creaky hall. John stretched, the usual aches from an uncomfortable bed weren’t present. Yawning, he made his way into the small sitting room, a fire was dying in the fire place and there was no sign of Sherlock.

What an odd vampire. John had met cruel vampires and eccentric ones but Sherlock, although eccentric, he never came off cruel. The doctor decided on making tea before he gave more thought to his twisted dreams.

His mother had warned him about letting his guard down. In fact, she had helped train his mind to block out any influence or compulsion. Was Sherlock compelling him somehow? What if he found out about who his uncle was? Would they kill him then? God, how could he even look Donovan or Dimmock in the eyes. The pack would hunt him down would see him dead for the crimes of his family.

There was a chill running up John’s neck, he knew it well enough that he turned around quickly.

“Oh, hello there.” An unfamiliar voice like gravel spilling out into the street. John jumped, his hands searching behind him for a weapon. A knife something on the counter behind him, all the while keeping his eyes on the cold figure with dark hair in front of him. This vamp wore an expensive black suit with a blood red tie, eyes like the arctic, gray, cold and unfriendly. This tall monster leaned against the kitchen’s door frame.

“Oh, come now. That's no way to greet a member of Sherlock’s family? I am his brother, Sherrinford. Don’t be afraid.” John located a knife. It wasn’t a wooden stake but it was good enough for now.

This devil in the gray suit was looming over John before he could pull the knife out in front of him. A painfully cold hand came out and caught his wrist, shaking the knife free, it clattered to his feet.

“I see my youngest brother has left you all alone unprotected. I was wondering where he was rushing off to this evening. Perhaps you had a bit of a domestic?” Sherrinford leaned in sniffing the human’s wrist.

John tried to pull free but the taller beast only laughed. “I see he hasn’t even claimed you. Oh, what a sentimental fool. No matter. Someone’s kept you. I can see they’ve sampled you over the years as well. Ah, and who dared burn such pretty flesh?” Sherrinford ran pad of his thumb over the scars lining John’s forearm. “You smell delicious! Just a taste I think.” The vampire took sighed, his sharp teeth more visible.

“No!” John helplessly tried to pull free, to kick and punch no matter how useless it was.

There was a deep growl from behind the predator, and John couldn’t hold back the yelp of pain as his wrist felt like it was being crushed.

“MINE!” Sherlock snarled, moving like lightning into the kitchen. However, Sherrinford was older and pulled John with him into the living room.

“Can it wait until after I’ve had a bite?” Sherrinford smiled evilly, holding John against him, making sure to face the terrified human to the dark haired vamp. “Don’t want you missing me taking what's yours. I see why you like this one.” Sherrinford ran his cool tongue against the side of John’s now exposed neck. “He looks so much like the last pet you had. Unfortunate end that one met.  It’s odd. I can’t get into this one’s head. Is that why he interests you? Why he’s still alive? Oh Sherrly, father warned you to never play with your food.”

“If you touch him I will kill you slowly brother!”

“Oh, blah blah, all this talking. I do love it when the human’s squirm. Turns me on. I wont lie to you.” Sherrinford ground his hardening cock against John’s back. This had the human freezing up, his neck was being held forcefully to the side. The vamp pulled angrily on the blond's hair.

John cast pleading eyes over at the dark haired vamp, as futile as the situation was, he was terrified. Sherlock could see this. The room dropped in temperature, John could see his breath now and even the fire dimmed in response.

“Sherlock you are a sentimental fool. Mycroft is an idiot-  
  


“Mycroft will see you dead if I will it!” Sherlock needed to find a way to keep his brother distracted and talking. John was not going to die. He couldn’t. Sherlock must protect him. Keep him safe. John was his-

“Oh, poor Mycroft wont be doing much of anything. He’s been arrested. Of course you haven’t heard. They arrested him when they caught him trying to exchange that dog’s donated wolf's blood with his own. It’s illegal, you know, to try and claim a wolf. They caught him in the act. The white council has declared war. He's been caught by the wolves and they’ll hold him for trial. Shame, he was the head of our family it looks like by default I am the head-”

“I challenge you!” Sherlock snarled, his brother Mycroft was an idiot. Of course he was innocent. He would never go against his precious peace treaty.

“Oh, I had hoped you would. I’ve wanted it! But first, I think I’ll snap this one’s neck. He looks so much like that little pest that cost me some prime wolves!”

John had learned a few tricks growing up among the cruel. They liked it when you fought and struggled. He knew this game, sadly all too well, and allowed his body to go lax. The strong hold loosened briefly. “Awe, poor thing. He's fainted. Here, I like my prey more lively-” John took the opening, slipping free as if in a dead faint, only to grab for fire poker. He drove it into the vampire’s unprotected stomach.

Sherlock acted pulling John back hard, pushing/throwing the human behind him. The Doctor rolled into the kitchen cabinet, the wind knocked out of him and the two vampires lunged at each other.

Sherlock took the iron poker and twisted causing his brother to halt in mid lunge. “I’ll see you dead! “

Sherrinford gasped low, hands clutching at the iron stake driven cruelly into his belly. Unused to physical confrontation, it had been thousands of years since he’s had to actually fight for himself.

“Mind the suit! This was Armani! You bastard!”

“Send me the bill!” Sherlock pulled the poker free making to lunge again. Sherrinford narrowed his eyes on the unprotected human just a few feet away. His younger brother went on the defensive. Sherrinford could smell more opponents coming from downstairs. He moved back to the closed balcony window, crashing through it, landing on the street almost effortlessly.

“Another time, Brother! And Johann this isn’t over! I owe you! And that bitch sister of yours!”

Sherlock wanted to pursue but he too could smell intruders storming up the stairs. In his aggressive state he didn’t register friend or foe.

John groaned. He was dizzy. His shoulder had caught the cabinet and damn, if that wasn’t a close one. He shakily tried to stand, falling to his knees. Sherlock was snarling and growling. The human winced, trying to focus on the suited men coming through the door. He knew them. Dimmock’s worried voice called out for him.

“John!”

“I’m fine. You guys are late to the party.” The human heard Sherlock’s warning growl and he realized the wolves were holding guns. Most likely those weapons had wood bullets or something worse.

“John, step away from the monster.” Was that Sally?

“Are you kidding me? The only monster here just flew out the bloody window. Why is no one pursuing him? “ John managed to stand, he held a hand to his aching shoulder. “Look, what’s all this?”

“Mycroft Holmes has been arrested. This one can’t be trusted. He's the brother of a warmonger. Now move away from him, John. You don’t know the Holmes reputation. We were sent to collect you and put you in protective custody.”

“Right, because Sherlock has tried to kill me? No. Mate. I think you’re confused. If you would have shown up a few minutes earlier you would have heard that sick bastard’s confession.” John pointed at the broken window. If it weren’t for Sherlock I’d be dinner. Now. Put the bloody guns down-”

“He’s gone feral, better not Doc. Why don’t you-” John cut Donovan’s reply short

“Of course! You've just entered into the vampire’s territory without an invite or so much as a hello. And what part of that other bastard just tried to kill me and challenged his brother are you not hearing? What a coward! He ran instead of stayed to fight. Fuck, I need something for this headache-does anyone else hear that ringing?” John started to sway. Sherlock’s cool hands were there to steady him. Causing the three wolves that crowded the living room to tense and growl.

“If I puke no one judge me.” John managed to make light of the situation, his heart was pounding in his throat. Sherlock’s teeth had retracted and his eyes were no longer a cold black but the normal gray.

Dimmock tilted his head watching the vamp help the blond human to a rather comfortable looking chair. “Someone start the tea.” John huffed. “Everyone else, come in sit down and lets hear what’s happened.”

Sherlock tensed when the wolves started forward. “Oh, Sherlock stop it. We're all on the same side. We’re going to need all the help we can get. It sounds like we have a situation.”

Dimmock nodded, signalling for the others to lower their weapons. “You can’t be serious!” Donovan hissed.

“We owe it to DI Lestrade. He trusted this blood sucker and his brother. Even you said something was foul about this whole situation. “

Donovan shook her head, “This isn’t what we came here for, we were supposed to get John, kill the vamp and go. Look at the poor bastard he’s been compelled.”

John really needed to put some distance between himself and the others but he couldn’t just leave Sherlock in trouble. Not that he owed the vampire or any vampire anything.

“Just do it, Donovan. Lestrade left me in charge. Unless you are openly challenging me.”

“I think we’ve seen enough of that for one night.” Sherlock took a seat next to John pulling a black leather chair over next to the Doctor’s. The man was the picture of a composer now, his skinny elbows resting on his knees, hands steepled under his chin.


	10. Similar demons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In enter's Harry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to give a major shout out to my dear beta Tishbing, she not only reads through my messy and disorganized drafts but she's always so motivating and positive. RL often beats us all down but she still manages to come through for me. :) Aaaaah and I love this community! All of you are wonderful so here's one chapter and as promised a second follows closely behind. Bear with me as we get past some back story...it's all leading somewhere I promise.

Lestrade had dreams of running in open fields, howling with his pack, the fresh air filling his lungs and the cool damp earth flying under his heavy paws.

He was young again and his brothers and sisters were there, barking their laughter and nipping playfully at his tail and heels. Lestrade, in his youth, had been fast as lighting. It was ironic that his hair had gone gray, gray like silver.

He wondered about his friends. How hunger, war and worse had befallen them one by one. He had been solitary for far too long but the wolf packs had rebuilt their numbers through peace. The peace treaty was fragile but Lestrade knew its worth. Too many young pups had no real idea what war looked like, what it did to your insides to be parted in death by your brethren.

The old dog wished for none of that. He was far too old to wish for war. It was for this reason the gray haired Lestrade had accepted the truce from the head of the Holmes family. As much as he loathed what the elder Holmes and his sire had done to many of good wolf, Lestrade had worked for some years with the new head of the Holmes House.

Lestrade was lost in his dreams and for a moment the wolf halted in his steps coming to an open meadow, the sun was near setting now. The great wolf turned to glance up at the starless sky.

“You never came back for me. You knew I was going to my death and you chose to save yourself.” A blond young man wearing simple brown peasant’s clothing. “Where is your honor?” The young man frowned, turning his back on the whimpering wolf. No apology could be spoken in this form.

“Coward.” The young man sniffed. Then louder, he turned with accusing blue eyes and a condemning finger he pointed with a shaking hand. “COWARD!”

The wolf howled and shook his great head in response, his large front paws digging into the damp earth.

“I wanted to go home and see my Mary. My wife was going to have my child. What became of them? Did you even look? You could have protected them. You failed me. And you failed her. COWARD!”

Lestrade awoke, sitting up abruptly. Hands were easing him back. “Woah there, mate. You’re alright. Stay calm. You’ll be fine.”

“Johann.” Lestrade’s voice was raspy and hoarse. He felt as if he had swallowed a bucket of sand.

“John. John Watson remember.” John, not Johann, offered the wolf a straw and the older man drank greedily. “Woah there, not too fast you’ll make yourself sick.”

Lestrade nodded, laying back against the soft pillows. He sighed. It had all been a dream. "Who are you? Why are you here?” Haunting me. John started to speak but Lestrade cut the young man off with a heavy hand. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter. Where’s Mycroft? Was anyone else hurt?”

“No, only you. And there has been, what seems, a big misunderstanding.” John looked over his shoulder towards the doorway. He could hear yelling in the hall.

“What kind of misunderstanding?” Lestrade demanded. Refusing more water, he took a deep breath and glared at the ghost sitting next to him.

~0~

Mycroft sat, shoulders and back straight. He would not pace and he would betray any sense of worry. He was not going to break down or make hopeless demands. He was no fool. Obviously he had been set up. He narrowed his eyes on the silver reinforced door in front of him. The tiny cell was made of cold stone. Not that he needed comfort. This dingy cell reeked of dog.

The head of the Holmes house, was reminded of Gregory Lestrade. The gray haired wolf was tolerable for a Were. In fact, Mycroft had grown quite tolerating of the lean muscular Were with a grainy voice. Lestrade wasn’t one to be thoughtless with his words and he was polite, again, for a Were.

It was preposterous what he was being accused of. Mycroft had fought with the unnamed vampire that dared try to give the wrong blood to the unconscious wolf. The elder Holmes couldn’t explain his reasoning, but he felt protective over the Wolf.

Now his deviation into sentiment had him here, in a cell caged like a mongrel dog. He wasn’t a naive fool. He realized that any kind of trial would be biased. His family name carried much history and many crimes against the wolves. His fate was sealed and he only hoped his younger brother Sherlock would not follow too soon behind him. Not that anyone would mourn the passing of any Holmes not even their own blood-line. He sighed, thinking of his wayward brother. Who would keep him in check?

This was what sentiment got you. He thought of Sherlock’s mother and held back the urge to shake his head. She had walked into the sun and he remembered holding tight to his youngest brother’s small hand. She had been the only and last person he had mourned for. Poor broken Sherlock. His mother had a fragile constitution. Something she most likely had passed onto her only child. Father had brought the woman home after an unusually long hunting trip.

This woman was princess from some distant land given as offering for her father’s wish of immortality. Such a steep price, in Mycroft's eyes, but to the human king it was a small price to pay, his soul and his daughter.

Sherlock’s mother, although turned against her will, had been kind to the younger man. She had been the only kindness he had known. Sometimes, the woman would hum a sad foreign song and play a harp for him while he studied his books.

All thought the auburn haired beauty was his true wellspring, forgetting that his own mother had died in childbirth. Mycroft never minded this. Even Sherrinford, who resented the new Queen, had forgotten that the woman wasn’t truly Mycroft’s mother.

Then Sherlock came along, a thin, tiny mewing little thing with dark hair and gray sharp eyes. The woman that suffered father’s abuses was fading and it took the last of her to have the child. She loved him at first but soon her light started to dim. Mycroft had seen it in some of the servants father had brought home. The ill-used blood dolls. She was becoming skin and bones and never sang or played her harp.

The house felt darker and colder once more. Until one morning, she came to Mycroft wearing the dress she had first worn those years ago when she was first brought to the home as queen. Sherrinford never like the vampiress, his own mother had been killed by father when she tried to start a revolt against the cruel king.  

Sherrinford knew it wasn’t safe to cross father and forbidden to touch the Queen. However, it never stopped him from whispering callous evils into her ear when no one was around. Mycroft was too young to protect the fragile newling.

That last morning the Queen lead a confused Sherlock into Mycroft’s room. The younger Holmes had pouted and tried to wiggle free of her tight hold.

She kneeled down, placing the child’s hand into his brother’s. “Here. He’s your responsibility now.” She took Mycroft’s confused face into her ice cold hands. “Promise me you will always take care of him. That’s what big brother’s do. They take care of their little brothers.”

“I can take care of myself.” Sherlock had growled pulling his hand free. Mycroft was sitting up in bed blinking sleep from his eyes. He knew it was too early to be awake. The iron curtains were still over the windows.

“Oh, Sherlock. I wish someday for someone to love you. If only someone would love you.” She whispered.

And then took her leave. Mycroft had followed confused, his bare feet making no noise against the cold stone of their old home.

He had questions for her and she wasn’t herself. He could see that her eyes were red rimmed and she was upset. Had father taken his fists to her again?

Then she went to the doors and he cried out. “DON’T!”

She turned back to him. “Love makes you do funny things.” She stepped into the sun and Mycroft could only hold tight to Sherlock as he yelled for the flaming corpse that quickly turned to ash.

Mycroft snapped out of his dark memories. Why was he thinking of her now? These things he could never fix. It was useless sentiment. He needed to not give up. He had to get out of here and soon.

~0~

Harry pulled her black hoodie over her short hair, dark circles of her eyes very evident. She needed a fix. She wiped the back of her bleeding nose with her shaking hand, her Uncle had sent her on a mission and she still hadn’t found the little bastard of a brother. Now Uncle had cut her off and she was stuck playing errand girl for the damn Doll Makers. She’d already lured five good healthy prospects into the clutches of her new masters. She needed one more to fill her quota for the night before her employers would give her the reward she craved. A bit of HEMA.

Usually these hospitals had some good prospective Dolls. Healthy nurses or volunteers, so easily tricked into helping a poor unfortunate. Except tonight there were an unusual amount of wolves and vampires lingering about. She hissed in irritation, staying out of sight, not having the strength to fight. If only she had her HEMA hit and then she could easily rip them apart or at least put up a good fight.

She was about to call it a night and hunt the park for homeless addicts. They weren’t worth much but she might get lucky. Then she heard a familiar voice, her dulled senses heightened and dark eyes narrowed on a short blond human.

“You can’t just-”

“Don’t think you can ever tell me what I can or cannot do. No one asked for your help-”

“I know it dammit but I’m giving it. Your wounds are sealed but you’re still not at full strength. I don’t advise you on changing and -”

“Advice taken and disregarded.”

“Dammit! Bloody Weres! Hopeless lot!” John threw his hands up and kept on the gray haired wolf’s bare heels. A grin crossing her brother’s untouched face as his eyes were focused on the open gown of the man in front of him.  She sniffed the air, definitely a Were, scrunching up her nose she held her breath. Harry didn’t care. What she saw following the unchanged Were was her ticket back into Uncle’s good graces.  Her skin itched and she watched her little brother smiling. He looked...looked happy? Of course he did. He was free. He was always Moriarty’s favorite little treat. Perhaps she should skip Uncle’s wrath and go straight to Mr. Moriarty. He could turn her and she could finally be free of the need for vampire’s blood.

She started to follow the three undetected. She had learned long ago to remain unseen. She scowled at Johnny.

Always the favorite. He never had to endure what she had to. They always left him untouched. Well, sure they beat him but he always healed. He didn't have to play whore for Uncle’s guests.

And Lord Moriarty had chosen John. Why John? He was going to turn the golden boy when she had put in all the work these last years. She had brought in blood dolls, had acted like an enforcer for her Uncle Seb. Well, until Johnny boy slipped through her defenses. Not once but twice.

She slipped through the emergency exit. Keeping an eye on the wolf, she snapped a quick picture with her outdated mobile. Time for an upgrade. Lots of things would change.

Two of her cohorts, also low level addicts, were waiting just outside sharing a nearly finished cig. It was hard to decipher genders with their baggy black hoodies. The red arm cuff, though, was very visible. Fucking idiots! She told them to keep a low profile. Amateurs.

“What’s the deal, Harry? I thought we were bringing out the catch.” Tony looked behind her, his bloodshot brown eyes darting around as if she were hiding someone under her black pullover.

“Yeah, what. It’s getting late.” Ana or Tonya whatever her name was, puffed on the cigarette as if it were her oxegen. Hands shaking, the red nailpolish she wore on her broken nails was starting to chip. “Where is the tribute! Dammit!” The addict forgot her cigarette and grasped at Harry’s arms. “You are hiding them for yourself. You’re trying to keep our hit for yourself!”

“G’off!” Harry growled her mobile clattering to the alley floor.

“It’s true! Tony, look at her! Miss high and mighty she thinks she can keep it all!” Harry pushed the frantic addict from her only to be tackled by the other from behind.

“You have a hit on you Harry. I know you always have some. I just need a little.”

Harry tried to break free, her strength wasn't the best. These two were starting to get the bleeds. Their eyes filling with blood and red tears started to spill. It happened during detox. Harry had seen it.

“What’s this? I smell trash.” A deep snarl.

Harry hissed, catching the whiff of wolf. Great. This was all she needed. The bodies of her companions were hurled against her and she was knocked off her feet, her face hitting the dirty alley’s cement beneath her. 

Rolling to her left and jumping to her feet she broke for a dead run as several pack wolves started to change and tear into her companions. She blindly crashed into someone. Falling back, she could hear the echos of wolves cracking bones and crushing skulls.

“Harry?” She was picking herself up. The hood of her black pullover had fallen back revealing her short greasy blond hair. IT was starting to grow back now that she wasn't on a steady diet of drugs.

“Johnny?” She flung herself forward, thinking quick. “Run! There’s some wolves! And the bleeders are after me! It’s not safe!” She tried to take hold of his wrist but he wasn’t budging, just as she suspected. This might work for her, he was always so gullible.

 


	11. Control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the plot thickens.

John couldn’t believe his eyes! It was his sister, Harry. He thought she was dead or worse and, yes, there was worse. She looked more herself, although too thin and definitely suffering from withdrawal.

Her hair had started to come back. A sure sign that she was giving up on her bleeder association. The bald head had become a bleeder's proudest feature. She was clinging to him and shaking like a leaf.

Instantly, he wrapped his arms around her no matter how bad she reeked. Stale liquor and cigarettes, but it was her. Her bones felt so fragile against him.

There was a deep growl from Donavon next to him and his sister jumped pulling him behind her as if she could defend against a Were.

“Stay back! Run Johnny! They’re everywhere-”

“Calm down. Everyone, calm down. Donovan please, this is my sister.” John put a hand up. What a long fucking night this was turning into. He turned back to his sister. “Harry. It’s alright these are my friends.”

“Friends?” She whispered trying the word out, her eyes wide.

“John, she’s a fucking bleeder. She stinks-like-”

“At least I don't stink like wet dog. Bitch.” Harry snapped showing her yellowed sharp teeth.

“Come on, Harry. Let me take care of you. I know somewhere safe we can go. You can tell me what’s going on.”

Harry nodded, eyeing the wolves suspiciously. “It’s okay. Like I said, these are my friends.”

~0~

“Any luck locating your brother?” John asked, handing Sherlock a warm cup of blood. The vampire took it sinking into his chair.

“They have him in custody but Lestrade has gone to visit twice. He assures me that Mycroft is being treated fairly. Mycroft, being the family martyr, has forbidden the dog to tell me where he is being held. He thinks I would dare break him out. Like I care.”

John had spent enough time with the vampire this past week to know that’s exactly what he would do. There was a groan from upstairs and the vampire’s gray eyes shot upwards with a glare.

“Detox isn’t pretty.” John massaged his temples, “She’s almost through the worst of it. I guess she’s been trying to go cold turkey. It's hard on the streets. I can’t believe she’s still alive. I thought-” John cut himself off not wanting to reveal too much on his past. It was best that he keep that to himself. His uncle wasn't exactly loved by vampires or wolves. At least, not the respectable types.  “I-just. Thank you, Sherlock for letting us stay here. I know you have a lot on your plate. It’s just-” John sighed. “Thank you.”

Sherlock said nothing, just waving the blond off. He had met the addict upstairs briefly. She reeked and looked half dead. Perhaps it was best she hurried up and succumed to her bodies weakness and expired. John would be sad but Sherlock could explore the idea of comforting the blond. They hadn’t slept in the same room since that banshee had arrived.

Sherlock had written the female off. She wasn't important. He had to figure out where Sherrinford was holding up and why he hadn’t made another move. Of course he knew it was useless to challenge Sherlock again due to the matter that Mycroft was still alive. The transfer of power wasn't going to Sherlock until Mycroft was dead.

Sherrinford would know that. Was he hoping to just kill Sherlock or had he thought that Mycroft was dead?  Something was off here and there were pieces of the puzzle missing. Lestrade had put bodyguards on the consulting detective. They were to keep any other would be assassins sent by angry Wolves or Vampires.

John was moving up the stairs carrying food, just toast and tea. Sherlock had seen this play out before; always the same. He moved into his own mind palace where he needed to think over the situation without interruption or distraction.

**  
  
**

**_~0~_ **

Harry was sweating. Her body felt as if she was burning alive. The bleeds had started. She needed to get out. Dammit, she was a prisoner kept in a room again, caged!

The door was opening but it wasn't the vampires wanting to pinch and grab to force their blood into her.

No, because now she liked the sweet drug, craved it and needed it and it didn't matter how she got it.

“Harry drink. You need to try. “ John ran a cool cloth over her face she turned away from his touch.

“Fuck off! Get me blood! There's a prime vamp downstairs! Just a drop!” She clutched weakly at her brother. “I’m dying! You're killing me!” She growled her hands squeezing his forearms cruelly.

“Harry, I’m going to give you a transfusion. It will help cycle the toxins from you. You’re almost over the hardest part. But you need to eat.” John pried her hands loose, placing the tray of tea and toast down.

“No. NO! NO!” She screamed. “Why are you doing this?! Are you mad because they didn’t kill me! Because he always like you more! I played whore but you. You got to be the perfect little prince!”

“Harry that’s not true.” John whispered.

“You’re like our father! He got us into this mess, sold us. Our mother was killed because of him! Because of you!”

“You don’t believe that Harry. Shhh.”

“Our life was so good before he gambled us all away. And you’re killing me. You’re a murderer too Johnny!”

John took a deep breath and backed away from his sister sadly. “I’m going to bring something to help you. You’re doing so well.”

“We should kill them before they find out who we are. Kill them. Johnny, they won't be on our side when they find out.” Back to pleading.

“Ssssh Harry.” John looked over his shoulder, grateful he had shut the door behind him upon entering.

“I know somewhere we can go run away to. Be safe. So safe.”

“Lie back Harry. I’ll be back-”

“Fuck you! I’ll kill you.” Harry screamed grabbing the tray of food and flinging it at her brother. He ducked easily stepping out of the room sure to lock the door behind her.

_**~0~** _

“Gregory, we appreciate your wisdom but you have no power here, having declined a seat many a moon on this council. “ Councilmen Cain pointed out gruffly.

“I’ve seen what politicians do to those that follow them. I am a pack leader. I am not made for politics. I better serve the council in my current position.” Lestrade held back the thoughts of how pencil pushers revolted him. They were slow to make decisions, young pups died on the battlefield as they old dogs debated the value of peace.

“Of course you do. Councilman Cain meant no insult. “ Ella smiled her polite schooled smile, perfected over the years. Lestrade knew her all too well. Her brother had suffered at the hands of the Holmes. They all were itching to make an example of Mycroft Holmes. Although, it was Sherrinford that deserved their wrath.

Lestrade had grown to respect the blood sucking Sire and he knew any move on their part against him would spark a war. For now, the Red Council was demanding release and the White was demanding justice.

“I speak on the man’s behalf. We should hear his side.”

“Have you became involved with beast? You do know they have no souls, no hearts. Only ice and cold.“ Cain snapped, the other two council members nodding in unison. “You’ve become bewitched! Too long have you served-”

“I SERVE NO ONE!” Lestrade snarled, his teeth showing and eyes meeting Cains in open challenge.

“That is enough!” Ella brought her heavy gavel down. “I will be heard now!”

“We will hold a trial and if the evidence against the accused is sufficient then we will have an apology or an execution. So agrees this council?”

“Aye!” Caine and Councilman Petra both growled.

Lestrade bit his tongue. Councilwoman Petra shook her blond head at him in warning, her dark braid handing over her left shoulder. The caramel skinned Ella was smiling that false smile but her dark eyes said she knew something that Lestrade didn’t. Caine, the old gray haired fool was clutching the wooden podium he sat behind with his fellow members all looking down on Lestrade in the empty court like room.   
  


“That will satisfy both sides I think. War can not be started by our side. Let the beasts throw the first stone.” Ella whispered low to Cain, instantly calming the Were. “And you see, he will be injured once they try to break him out.”

“You’re so sure of this Ella?”

“His younger brother is volatile he will try. Lestrade is a fool. Perhaps he needs a lesson in just how dangerous these beasts can be. Let’s starve the beast first. If they get hungry enough they’ll go after just about any food source. Even a wolf. We'll make it look like he went on a hunger strike. The Holmes Vampires are stubborn enough for this to be believable.” Ella couldn't hide the gleam of excitement in her dark brown eyes. 

“Yes, the old ways haven’t changed. It was that house of Holmes that hunted our kind for sport and for sustenance. Cruel monsters. The time has come for us to rise up and see them out of our cities and back into the old country where they could step over each other and fight among themselves until nothing is left.” The blond councilwoman stated coolly, her old eyes never fitting her young face. “It’s a shame that Lestrade will be one of the first casualties. However he is loved and respected enough that it will be just the spark we need.”

**_~0~_ **

Sherlock watched John treat the aching wound on his left arm. He had been trailing Lestrade when a pack of Were’s had descended on him. He had thrown the young volatile pups off but not after they had gotten in a few hits with their wooden stakes and silver tipped knives.

That’s when Donovan and Dimmock had caught his scent once more. Idiots. They were easy to lose until he was bleeding. He would never thank them for intervening and even arresting the aggressors but he was grateful.

John’s warm touch was welcome against his cold skin. The human smelled of antiseptic and tea, a delicious combination.

“There you go. How about you try to let Lestrade figure this out. There’s a reason they don’t want you to know where your brother is. This might just prove to be a good deterrent. Agreed?”

Sherlock sniffed the top of John’s bowed head, he was looking over his handiwork, kneeling between Sherlock’s legs, the vampire sitting in his black leather chair.

The human stiffened, feeling the cool air against the back of his neck and ears. Sherlock could see the rush of blood to the tips of those beautifully shaped ears. He couldn’t help but run his tongue sinfully slow over the nearest shell. His trousers suddenly tightened restrictively, hearing the gasp from the human so close to him.

Then blue eyes were turning to face him, a pink tongue had nervously flicked out to moisten the suddenly dry lips. And Sherlock couldn’t hold back any longer. He needed to capture such a mouth just once, to have a quick taste.

But that’s not what it was. Instead, with a quick motion, he had John under him pinned against the couch, their mouths locked together.

Hands weren't pushing at him. Instead, they clung to his wrinkled purple shirt and the human arched against his painfully hard erection. Those blue eyes glazed over and Sherlock could see the pulse just under that strong cleanly shaved jawline.

They’d spent weeks in close proximity and John was still an enigma that Sherlock couldn’t unlock. When it came to this human the vampire found himself acting out of character. Allowing the vile bleeder in his home was a prime example, then there was the way John (a human) ordered him about. This human doctor told him when to eat, sleep and calm down. And to Sherlock's sudden horror he listened, he listened without argument.  John had ample opportunities to leave, however he remained at Sherlock's side.  Had he glamoured the human somehow? Once again he was trying to push through the younger man’s thoughts only to come up against a brick wall. Like a firmly shut door slammed in his face, the vampire jumped back.

“I need to speak to Lestrade. Don’t wait up and stay here.” With that he was gone leaving John panting unsatisfied and in need to relieve himself.

 


	12. Connecting the dots

Sherlock needed to clear his head. Everything smelled of John. It was as if the human had climbed into his nostrils and made himself a home in his olfactory glands. Why was the human so fragile? Sherlock could have lost control would have taken what John would never offer.

Wouldn’t he? Why had he clung to Sherlock, why did he continue to stare at the vampire as if he was not a monster? Sherlock was a monster, the worst kind, he took and drained and left those in his path for dead.

At least that’s who he had been. Why did he wish to go back, to enter his home and scoop John up in his arms? The man could try to fight but it would be useless. Sherlock would then take him there on the couch, dropping him down unceremoniously, or maybe in the bedroom. John wouldn’t be able to fight him. His struggles would only fuel the predatory instinct that seethed just beneath the surface of imagined calm.

Why did he need John close to him? He wasn’t Johann. Johann was gone and Sherlock had murdered him. Devoured him until all that was left was an empty shell with the flesh torn at the neck. The light gone from his bruised eyes, the warmth from the scratched and bruised skin, the fight gone.

Now Sherlock was starting to forget what he was capable of. What he had done and who he had taken from this world. John Watson was a close second but he couldn’t be Johann. The dead man’s words were still haunting him. “If only there was someone who loved you.”

The vampire needed a fix and this time there would be no one to stop him. So far in thought and fixated on his need that all instinct was muted and the pack of were’s easily crept up on him and he wasnt aware of his situation until the first dark hit on the back of his thigh, and the silver chain was thrown like a lasso over his head clamping down around his neck, tightening with every struggle.

_~0~_

Mycroft closed his eyes and took deep breaths. It had been a long time since he had been forced to fast. He kept his mind clear, pushing the suffocating need to feed aside. His veins were burning. He needed food. Something. Just a few pulls on a vein. However, he would not beg. If these mongrels thought he would break so easily then they did not know him very well.

There was nothing he would give them. He was a man of honor. How dare they believe he was capable of their claimed crimes! It was turning into a week now and they would not allow Lestrade to visit. That was all that broke up such monotony. The visits with DI Lestrade.

Mycroft wondered briefly how it would have been if he had discovered the gray haired wolf earlier in their years. After all, the old were had been held by Sherrinford, and it had been Sherlock’s blood doll that had freed the silver haired were.

Where had Mycroft been during those times? Placating father, biting his tongue against Sherrinford’s rants against the humans bordering the vampire lands.

Now, where was Sherrinford? He lived on an old estate he inherited and his dogs were his only link to his past power and rank. All things turn to dust and Mycroft had seen that the transfer of power was taken right from Sherrinford’s hungry grasping fists.

This had to be something Sherrinford planned. When Mycroft was free of these walls he would track the vampire down and see him dispatched and laid out in pieces to burn under the heated rays of the sun. How dare Sherrinford attack Sherlock? It would not be tolerated.

Mycroft’s stomach growled again and he laid back to enter his own mind’s palace to distance himself from the hunger. However, even there, he found the darkness that threatened, tempting him to submit.

**~0~**

“My apologies, my lord. I’m truly sorry to interrupt your meal-” Moran bowed low, his dirty blond hair  brushing the ground as he kneeled. He hated this show of submission but it was the only way, and besides, this was the only vamp he ever bowed to.

The thin irishman turned from the fireplace, allowing a thin teenage human throat, torn and bleeding, to fall heavy at his feet. The dark haired vampire snapped his fingers and servant appeared with a white cloth so he could wipe his hands and bloodstained face.

Moran rolled his eyes briefly. The human had wide blue eyes and his mouth was open like a fish out of water, blood bubbling to his pailing lips. For a moment, Moran could see his nephew in this dying boy’s face.

“What is it?” The thin vampire with sparkling green eyes waved towards the twitching body. “I’m done with this one. He wasn't nearly as fun as I wanted him to be.”

“I bring you some news, my dearest friend. Perhaps it shall cheer you up.”

“You know me so well, Sebs. Stand up. come on! We’ve known each other too long to stand on ceremony. You flatter me, dearest.”

“I have word from a trusted source.”

“As trusted as your dear bleeders can be. A bunch of drug addled miscreants and-”

Moran cut the usual rant off with the flick of his wrist, offering a picture he had developed. It had been grainy, coming from such a poor quality mobile so Sebastian had it cleaned up before bringing it to the very volatile, flamboyant, dark suited Moriarty.

A shrill sound of what could be a mixture of a giggle and a whoop crackled in the air causing anyone’s hair to stand on end. A fire did not crackle in the empty stone fireplace, the room was dimly lit by bulbs made to look like old antique oil lamps.

Moran hated the smell of the room, always like blood. The antique carpets covering the old wood floors had indeed seen some days worse than the bleeding human being carted away.

Moriarty smiled his blood stained grin, like a clown whose makeup was running.

“Oh, my Johnny boy. You bad bad bad boy. I’ve found you now.” He looked hungrily from the crinkled photo in his grasp to the blond dog in front of him. “Where? I want him! Bring him to me.”

“I will bring him. That was sent to me by Harriette.”  

“Looks as if history will always repeat itself doesn't it, Sebby?”

‘I never understood why you didn’t just turn him when I first presented him to you.” Sebastian glared at one of the house servants, obviously an enslaved wolf.

“Because, my dearest pet, I wanted him to be the same age. It would hurt more to parade him around looking the same age forever as Sherrly’s dear blood doll. A fitting revenge for the loss of my dearest Victor.  I was never truly compensated properly for my loss. I still wonder how the bitch Mary managed to fool us. Not only me but Sherrinford Holmes and Sherlock. Upon her death she had looked pregnant, but obviously the line breathes and lives. His blood was proof! The sweetest of proofs! Now I will have him! You will bring him! And for dear Harry’s struggles I will turn her. Have him washed and cleaned. I want him presented in pristine condition. It’s been too long since I last tasted him. He will remember my teeth well. For eternity he will serve me and that’s how long I will keep him alive even after I kill Sherrly. “

“Bring him to me.” Moriarty grinned, staring hungrily at the photograph in his hand. “BRING MY BOY home!”

**_-0-_ **

Harry woke the next night hungry and less shaky. Her hands were steady this time when John brought her water and the food tasted less like sawdust.

“I’ve brought you some clothes so you can shower.”

“Your boyfriend won't mind a filthy bleeder showering in his pristine bath?”

“Please. The bathroom is anything but pristine. As for the flat mate, he’s a friend. Nothing more. Besides, he hasn't returned home. It's been two nights and I’m starting to worry.”

“Two days is nothing. Perhaps he’s out hunting not wishing to bring anything here.”

John didn't want to tell her that wasn't true. Sherlock would, at least, answer a text. He had talked to Lestrade and the DI was worried as well. John prayed his new friend hadn't relapsed as everyone else thought he had.

The flat felt so empty without the brooding vampire and John found himself making two cups of tea no matter the time of night or day. That and he was utterly confused by their last parting words and actions. The blond human had yet to find release with his own hand. Something humiliating and painful considering just how close he had been to embarrassing himself with Sherlock.

He sank down in his chair, deciding if Harry was alright to be left alone he would go find Lestrade again and search for Sherlock on his own. It was dangerous out there for vampires. The streets were not safe, especially for a vampire with such a family history.

The police force was having a hard time keeping the violence against the halfbreed vamps and full blood vamps by Wolves down to a minimum.

Already, John had noticed more and more wolves patrolling the street. Lestrade’s pack had been working overtime. Normally, they investigated homicides but of late they had been bringing in perpetrators of assault.

“Johnny?” Harry interrupted his thoughts. “Can I use your mobile? I have seemed to have misplaced mine.”

_**~0~** _

Henry followed the gray haired wolf Lestrade. She cared not for Mycroft’s situation. It mattered little to her.  However, Sherrinford was up to something and he would soon reveal himself. She had been trailing some of his known lackies in hopes of finding the Doll Makers. The trail had run cold so she narrowed her focus on her secondary goal. Sherrinford Holmes. That elitist prat had his own men watching the DI’s every movement as well as those on 221B. She was trying to steer clear of that flat, on that street, not wishing to see the imposter.

It was then he watched the DI being approached by another pack. From their uniforms and the stink that carried all the way to the top of the building she perched on, they were counsel lackies.

The old wolf got into the black vehicle that pulled up. However, something was off. Henry noticed how the council dogs looked around and the cctv cameras in the area were all pointed in another direction. She was perched near one. That was odd.

Out of curiosity and nothing else, she followed the car, pushing the memory of her brother down. The last images of him standing beaten and defiant, trying to protect the stray dogs, Lestrade among them.

“Dammit.” She hissed, tracking the car from the roof tops.

**_~o~_ **

Sherlock passed his prison’s small floors. He kicked angrily on the metal sheeted door. These bastards were insane. They had no power to keep him here. No charges had been stated. He was being held illegally.

The door was pushed open and several men carrying anti-vampire weapons stood aside, motioning him to come out. “The counsel will see you now.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes and didn’t move. He only sneered but one of the bigger dogs, a dark haired man with a scar running along the side of his face, grabbed for his arm.

“Up! Now! Don’t make me get the chains.”

“I want to talk to Lestrade!” Sherlock snapped.

“Soon enough. First a few words.” Sherlock was lead down a dark hall where several cells were lined up. He casually sniffed the air but all he caught the scent of was dog. This put him on edge. “Keep going, blood sucker. You can’t help your brother now.” The dark haired wolf chuckled darkly. Sherlock glanced at the windowless cell. He was made to turn a corner when he heard shouting from the opposite hall.

It was Lestrade. He knew it was him and on instinct he turned his body, pushing past the guards without a thought to their threats or weapons.

“This is ridiculous! What right does the council have with detaining me?”

“Shut it, traitor! You wanted to visit with the blood sucker so bad. Well, we thought we’d bring you two together.”

“Get off!” Lestrade growled.

Sherlock ignored the shouts from his own captors. He pushed forward and the guards were holding him. Something was wrong.

“His fate is decided.” The scared wolf growled, attempting to put Sherlock in a sleeper hold.

“Hey! What the hell is he doing here? Sherlock?” Lestrade snapped, halting his own struggles. “What are his charges? Why haven’t I been notified? He’s under my pack's protection.”

“Your pack will be disbanded and they will either align with other packs or be put down.”  The blond dressed in the uniform of council guards signaled for his men to take Lestrade’s arms forcefully. Sherlock was jabbed in the side but he didn't take notice. He pushed forward with the speed of his age and strength of his genetics.

“Get him to the cell! Go! I’ll mind the vampire.”

  
Lestrade crouched down ready to change but he was hit hard on the back of the head and it dazed him.

The narrow corridor made it difficult for both parties to gain any ground. Sherlock brought a hard fist into the side of a bigger guard, knowing he broke the were’s ribs easily. Chains of silver were thrown over his already bruised neck.

Lestrade was in danger and Sherlock had always thought of the DI as his colleague. He was under the Holmes protection by proxy. These beasts would pay dearly for any injury. The were was still recovering from his earlier ordeal. He had nearly died to save Fatcroft that put him forever in a vampire’s debt.

“Sherlock, stop!” Lestrade growled, but the were was being dragged down the hall. Sherlock was pulled down to his knees, unable to move. More chains on his waist and feet, burning, his sharp eyes were made to see in the dim light and he watched with horror as a knife was drawn from one of Lestrade’s handlers.

The unknown stranger, a lackey of the council, thrust down into the shoulder of the DI causing the silver haired were to howl in shock. The blade was removed and then the intentions were made clear to the dark haired vampire.

The cell was opened and the DI was thrust inside. It was a horrible sinking feeling of deja vu. All struggling left the vampire and the echos of the past threatened. “No!” Johann.

Sherlock growled. Breaking free, he made quick work of his own guards, using their weapons against them. His blind rage, his beating heart and unmitigated rage.

How dare they! How DARE THEY! He could only smell blood, so much of it. It only fueled his anger. He isn’t hungered by it. No. John had made sure he was well fed these last few weeks.

He broke another were’s neck and found himself in an empty corridor. The last of the chains falling away, his coat having been discarded somewhere. It was ok. He had many more. The burns were small pinpoints of pain. Insignificant. He approached the door, more burning. The damn thing was lined with silver.

He could hear the growling within. He opened the food slot, peering in. Lestrade was backed against a wall, hands out. “Mycroft, it’s me-”

Sherlock had seen that look before, they had been starving his brother, he wouldn’t know himself. This was their plan?

“Lestrade! You have to change.” The were was weakened by his blood loss. If he did, it would make his wound worse. However, if he didn’t, he ran the chance of being bitten.

“Mycroft!” Sherlock hissed. “Don’t be a fat idiot! You don’t like dog blood! Its beneath you.”

“Hey!” Lestrade panted, falling to a knee, “Things are getting hazy. I think it was poisoned. Again?”

Sherlock looked at the men at his feet. He needed a key. Which one had it?

“Move!” He heard a deep female voice. Sherlock turned but didn’t argue with the determined vampire, her teeth bared. She held a key. “I’ll take care of your brother.”

Sherlock snarled at the stranger. Her gloved hands held a silver key covered in blood, her black leather pants stained with drying wolf blood and her bare arms were proof of what she had been up to. The black sleeveless top she wore revealed many old scars and some new. “I wont hurt him! I have tranqs. Now move!”

Both vampires forgot whatever argument they would have and whatever war that raged between them. Interrupted only by the sudden yelp from the injured wolf.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the lag in updates! oopsies! i havent forgotten this one. I've been feeling ill of late but that's no excuse for the long long pauses between chapters. I promise more to come! Find me on fb or tumblr. Marylousfanfictionspace ooooh k. off to write some more! Happy easter friends!


	13. BROTHER, AGAIN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry ever the protective sister...not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A chapter for my friend Johnsarmylady she likes this story and it makes me giggle to have friends that follow me. Also big thank you for Tishbng for helping me work through my writers block. I am your biggest fan! I apologize for the gaps in chapters friends, i've been sick. i do have the next chapter almost completely done, so yeaaaaay.

John looked over Sherlock’s wounds, the teeth marks marring his forearms, the scratches that had torn open his shirt and the pale flesh of his hairless chest.

“These bites will take longer to heal than anything a knife or a gun could do.” The doctor shook his head, trying to at least clean the wounds and bandage them accordingly. “You’ll need some protein and iron rich blood for this. I’ll put in a request for a donor  with Haematomachrosis. Maybe more than one donor.”

“I’m not hungry.” Sherlock grumbled, scowling at his blood soaking through the carefully wrapped bandages around his wrist and forearm.

“I didn’t ask if you were hungry, mate. You’ll need this to heal proper. Even then, I think this will scar. You’re lucky he didn’t take off your arm.” John shook his head.

“I can't stand the stink.” Harry grumbled. She was holding her arms around herself, the borrowed black hoodie was like a black blanket draped over her two sizes too big. John had been on his way out of the 221B when Donovan and Dimmock showed up to collect him no questions asked. He couldn’t leave Harry behind but he was thinking perhaps that would have been the better option considering.

The strange blond that had attacked John earlier was opposite of Harry, glaring at the human, trembling with the urge to drink the discarded blood of the vampire.

John felt the familiar prickle on the back of his neck like static electricity and his instinct was to throw up a mental block. He heard Harry a second later snarl under her breath. “You like that, bitch? Try to read my thoughts again and I’ll show you more.”

The blond woman in leather hissed and John moved from Sherlock’s side, removing the blue nitrile gloves tossing them in a waste basket.

“Dimmock, is there somewhere more comfortable for my sister. She isn’t well.”

The Were crinkled his nose, glaring suspiciously at the tall blond vamp and the strung out human that John insisted on bringing along. It was odd how there was a resemblance between the two females. Was he the only one that saw it? Was John somehow related to the vicious looking blond vamp? Obviously, the addict was his sister. Although, her kin scent was stained with the stench of bleeder. He tried to casually sniff the vamp, only to receive a snarl and glare.   
  


“Don't sniff at me, dog!” The vamp hissed, baring her teeth and causing the Weres in the room to come to his side and growl, ready to transform at any moment.

**  
**  
  


“Don’t fucking touch me, mate!” Harry snapped when Dimmock ordered her to ‘come along.’ “I hate cops and I fucking hate dogs. Useless bastards-”

“Harry!” John cut her off, knowing she was just strung out and over anxious. “Please, perhaps you can lay down-”

“Yeah, like a good little pup.” Dimmock mumbled under his breath, hating the kin scent that John shared with this leech. He had seen some bad bleeders, and knew that it was rare for any to come back once they’d lost their hair and the ability to tolerate sunlight of any kind. John was too good. Someone should perhaps put the strung out human out of her misery.

Sherlock watched the way the addict watched him, her eyes dilating. He could hear her heartbeat speed up in response to the smell of his blood.  He knew she craved what poison his veins pumped. He knew the hunter was trying to break into the Bleeder’s mind. His curious eyes dropped without notice while John was repairing him. It was all he could do to keep himself in check. He would need blood to heal and John’s veins were pumping, warm and welcoming. It would just be a quick taste, a pull, the warmth of John would fill his belly. Unfreeze his own arctic veins and speed up his slow beating heart. John would taste like sunshine on a clear spring day and Sherlock craved the warmth that the human promised.

So he focused on the scene playing out silently. The hunter flicked her predatory eyes over at the blond and the human didn’t flinch. He expected there to be a shield. Instead, he flinched away from the mental invitation. The images flooding his mind, all pain, red hot like fire pokers. He could smell the burning of flesh and hear the stern voice of what he recognized right away as John’s mother. The image was sharp and focused, every detail sharp and vibrant. The pain was just as clear. A blond, a pale blond newling clutching a child’s arm with one strong bruising grip. The blond girl tried to pull away, spitting angry words.

“Hold still! You have to show this to them. When they try to invade your thoughts, when they push into glamour you. You remember this.” And then it was cigarette, hot and and newly lit the cherry at the end burning red and gray. The smell of nicotine and unfiltered tobacco was acrid and Sherlock wanted to vomit from the mix of fear and the sudden feel of the cigarette meeting thin flesh on the inside of an already injured arm. Several open wounds bleed uncleaned and uncared for from similar instances. “You have to learn to block them out Harriete. I can still read what your mind is screaming. Now block me out girl!” Again the cigarette was applied to the bruised forearm. The scream was quick and pleading.

Sherlock did not want to smell the burning or hear the cries. He withdrew and apparently the Hunter hadn’t expected that because she hissed in response.

Interesting, that this one projected the pain on any invader whereas John chose to block any mental burglars.  

There was something Sherlock noticed as well. The human and the hunter shared similar facial similarities. He could not differ a connecting scent but, without tasting the blood, he would never truly know.

“Your brother is pretty drugged up. I will check on him again.” John interrupted Sherlock’s thoughts. “Do you think we are all safe here? I mean if the council wishes to break down the status quo and start a war.” John  ran a hand over his face. “We are fucked.”

“They wanted to humiliate Mycroft.”  Sherlock stated cooly. “My brother would never give into such a primal need. To feed on a dog.“ Sherlock made a face.

John shook his head. “I dont know whats going on. “

Sherlock instinctively moved closer to John. “I intend to get to the bottom of the many mysteries before us. However, we must be sure that we can trust-”

“Lestrade’s pack is trustworthy.” John cut the vampire off, allowing the immortal to crowd him. There was something beautiful about the flawless marble of the vampire’s skin. The deep gray of the predator's eyes. There was a sadness John sensed there, buried deep. John knew he was playing with fire but he wasn't afraid of the vamp. He was more intrigued and dammit, there was an attraction he couldn’t deny.

“So far.” Sherlock stated, his eyes searching John’s for answers to the new questions bubbling to his lips. “Your mother was a newling. She burned your arm. But who tasted you.”

John flinched, taking a quick step back, “My father was a gambler, he lost more than he could afford on the horses. So the loan shark came to collect. My father was killed for his inability to pay, my mother was turned and prostituted out, my sister and I were kept human. My mother thought it was the best thing to do, living with so many threats. Keeping your thoughts to yourself, holding on to some secrets was safer if they couldn’t read you. And that's all you need to know. Now. Excuse me as I go and check on Lestrade and your brother.”

**  
**  


Sherlock took a step back and allowed John to leave the room. So many questions. He wondered if it would be easier to corner the bleeder. Perhaps he could find the answers to his questions by dangling a proverbial carrot in front of her.  He smiled at his bandaged hand, the blood staining the white gauze.

~0~

“Johnny, we can't stay here. It’s too hard.” Harry had promised to deliver the goods. She needed to get John where Moran and his men could collect him. However, it proved difficult with so many guard dogs around and that dark haired vamp was more than interested in Johnny.

Too bad, pretty boy. Her brother was taken and the price would be immortality. That damn bitch blond kept watching Harry with those distrustful eyes. She hadn’t reached past the pain that Harry had learned long ago to project on a mental intruder. However, she knew the demon didn’t trust her. Maybe they knew she wasn’t cured. She would never be cured. Maybe they knew her intentions.

She didn't care. She needed out and soon. Her strength was failing. The sweet siren call of vamp blood was hard to resist.

She needed out, into the cool air, to refocus she could do this. Just a little longer. It was everyone for themselves. John never cared about her. Why would she feel guilty about what she was going to do?

“Harry, I brought you a sandwich.” John entered the dark room she had been pacing. Anyway, John would be turned by Moriarty. That's what Moran promised. Moriarty had always wanted John to be his little love slave. Whereas, she had to work to get what she wanted. Moriarty would keep John but John would heal and eventually run away. However, why would he want to. Once he was turned, he would see the beauty in having power, James Moriarty was feared and John would be catered to once again. Nothing could touch him. She would be lucky if when she was turned she could have a little notoriety. Some respect, maybe he would allow her to run one of his many side businesses.

She fingered the tranq she nicked from the blond Hunter. The bitch had been too busy scowling to have noticed. That and Harry had made sure she shared the painful memory that her bitch mother had forever kept alive in her mind’s eye. This was one of many she liked to inflict on any would be intruders.

“Harry?” John neared her, breaking through her dark thoughts.

“Johnny. I need air. It’s hard to breath in here. Can we go for a quick walk. It won't hurt anything. We arent on anyone’s radar yet. Please!”

John nodded, hearing the pleading and pain in his sister’s shaky voice. "Yes. Alright. I checked on the wolf and Sherlock’s brother. They both are resting. Although, Lestrade had a deep puncture mark, he hadn’t been bled more than a pull before Sherlock broke his brother’s grip.

“Why do you care, John?” Harry asked, unable to hide her disgust. “You know what these demons are capable of. You know the dogs wouldn’t want us anywhere near them if they knew just who we were. “

“They don’t need to know. No one does. We can start over. It can’t ever make things right, some of the things they made me do. But, I can at least try to-”

“Oh, John. You think you can buy your soul back piece by piece. Life for a life.”

Harry opened the window, moving the black heavy curtains aside, she lifted the old frame, the glass rattled as she lifted up, climbing out onto the fire escape. Looking up at the clouds covering the large waning moon. She hated Weres. They were susceptible, weak and submissive by nature.

“Harry, we don't have to live in fear. We can make a fresh start. Put the past behind us, forget the horrible things done to us.”

Harry had made her way quickly down the cool thin metal, jumping onto the hard cement of the alley. The building facing her was an abandoned warehouse. She started forward, thumbing John’s nicked mobile. God, he was an idiot. So easy to take from.

“Start fresh?” She shook her head. “You’re delusional John.”

“Harry. We dont have to be what we were sold into. “

“Sold into? John. You are destined for the cushy life. Moriarty wanted to keep you for himself. He made sure no one touched you.”

John flinched from his sister’s cold words. “Harry? Cushy? Are you insane. He-” John took a step back from his angry sister, into the shadow of the alley’s entrance. They had been walking quickly. He hadn’t noticed, but the smell of the skip to his left was foul, and he already fought to keep down the tea he had hastily drank earlier with Lestrade. Her words weren’t helping. Did she really believe that? “He made me-he forced himself on me. He-tried to glamor me at first and when it didn’t work. He just took what he wanted. I was twelve the first time. Then his men, the ones that kept an eye on the blood dolls and prostituted newlings, they took turns inflicting pain. They did it because I had tried to run away. And I bartered my own dignity just to bring you food. All those times you were locked away. Strung out. “

Harry tried to recall these moments, the sound of an approaching van sounded in the distance but she was too busy trying to see truth in her brother’s defensive stance. Why would he lie?

“He’ll keep you immortal John. You’ll be worshipped and kept safe.”

“No. He wants to torture me and he sees some sick pleasure in my type. Do you know how many young men who were older than me that he raped and forced himself on? He made me watch and he called them my name. He promised I would be in their place as soon as I was old enough. When I tasted right. That isn’t life. Being kept. It should be my choice who I want. If I want immortality. Are you so far gone from the HEMA that you would think that’s what a sane person would want. An eternity of cruelty in exchanged for what? Fangs and a sun sensitivity. The sun Harry. We would never see the warmth again. Give up your life? “

“You think I had a life?” Harry laughed hysterically, without realizing they had an audience.

Henry, the Hunter had followed the two. Too late she realized she had been relieved of her last tranq. What would such a little wench like that addict want with such a powerful drug? It was used mainly on Weres or Vamps.

Now she was frozen as if in time, hearing words that echoed through her, so similar in nature to a speech she regretted from too long ago.

That held her attention and she hadn’t sensed the wolves before it was too late. The bleeder turned first to see the enemy. A wolf with a scar on his face and two others dressed in similar suits. Eyes shining like golden coins in the moon light.

“Fuck.” Harry hissed taking a step closer to her brother. This was not what she planned. Even when the van pulled up and three men jumped out. Two vamps and a bleeder.

John looked at the snarling wolves and the hissing vampires. He recognized the wolves from the hospital and the vamps from his very nightmares.

“Johnny boy, don’t run. It will only make it worse.” The bleeder with a glascow smile and meaty hands licked his lips happily. “Oh, how you’ve grown.”

“Harry?” John whimpered. “What did you do.”

“Let’s go John. I wont be human any longer, fed scraps from a table like a dog. I am owed my place. Our uncle said-”

John shook his head unable to hold back the fear that rolled off of him.

“They won't turn me unless I deliver you. “ Harry grabbed for her brother’s arm, only to catch air in her grip.

The blond vampire, the one with the suspicious eyes, had pulled John back into the alley with the reflexes of a viper.

“Johann.” She whispered her teeth bared. The three wolves had started to challenge the uninvited vampires. The Hunter needed to get her brother to safety, no. He wasn’t Johann, but this scenario wouldn’t play out. Never again.

 


	14. Faces of memory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> captured

John was frozen in fear; he couldn’t go back. They wouldn’t make him. They found him. They were going to take him back. His mind starting running before he could block out the fear, keep himself together. There was a solid arm around his waist, a cool hand touching his cheek, and he was being pulled back into the dark of the alley.

His whole being screamed, NO! RUN! RUN! but his body refused to listen, childhood trauma was a hard thing to overcome. The cold hand was on his cheek, those eyes, the predator was gone and there was a sad softness to them.

“Johann! Stop! No one will collect you. Do you hear me? Do you understand me?”

Her voice was so sure, was firm and her eyes promised him security. He felt himself succumbing to the glamor, his defenses down. Except his mind nagged him she wasn't really talking to him, was she? She kept calling him Johann. Somehow, it didn’t matter and he found himself falling into a daze and the warm sun was on his back. He was standing in a field, the memory felt false but at the same time true and he forgot what was troubling him. A healthy, more muscular version of his sister stood near him except she was wearing a medieval dress,. The dark green suited her and he had almost forgotten that her hair had been so long and blond. “Johann, you are fine. Come, brother, it is too nice a day to be toiling away in the dirt.”

John glanced down at his own garb. He was dressed in a loose, very light-weight, beige tunic made of soft cotton and tight wool trousers tucking into a pair of work worn leather boots covering his calf and stopping just below the knee. “I’ve never had this dream before.” John murmured, accepting the hand that was offered and allowing himself to be led through the tall wheat fields.

 

**~0~**

In such a state, Henry found the young human easy to glamour. After he succumbed to her spell, she pushed the images that had flooded her own mind. His normal mental blocks had dropped and the fear and pain was so visible, so tangible, it had shaken her and stolen her breath.

Now, she was pulling him back into the alley. They couldn’t go back. The wolves were fighting  the bleeders and there was another bleeder in front of her. He had aimed for John twice with the tranquilizer gun in his hand. They wouldn’t hurt him. No one would take him ever again.

Her first instinct was to get him to safety. She dodged another attempt at catching her off guard. Damn this bastard using silver darts. One had sliced by, burning her arm as it just missed her.

John’s body wasn’t resisting. He was in a trance like state and it was easy for her to move with him, almost as if they were dancers. She had planted in his mind one of her favorite memories. It was old and one she had kept locked away.

She had taken out the bleeder that dared step in her way, moving quickly they were being followed by another group of bleeders and damn if the Weres hadn’t called for backup.

She laid the dazed blond human behind a skip, covering him up with discarded boxes, hoping that the smell of the trash would disguise his scent.

She needed her hands to be free. The trance she had him in would last as long as she did. As long as no other stimuli like pain reached the human.

“There she is!” She heard that bitch bleeder speak. “Where is he!” The poorly kept mortal demanded. “What have you done with my brother? It’s time to take him home.”

“Before this is over bitch, I will kill you.”

“Whatever. Where is he?” The bleeder with the Glasgow smile demanded.

“He ran. He’s safe. Now we can really have a conversation on manners and, when I'm done painting the walls with your poisoned blood, I’m going to run my knife into your little recruit there and I promise to make it hurt.”

Harry rolled her eyes, determination always replaced fear, determination and the little bit of vamp blood she’d been allowed helped too.

Another van squealed blocking off the alley behind the Smiler and the human, three vamps stepping out. Three vamps, wearing dark suits stepping aside, to allow another to emerge from the van.

A very familiar someone. “Oh, what is this? It’s a nice little reunion. I love it!”

“Moriarty!” Henry tensed, gripping her sword, she pulled from the sheath at her hip.

“Now, we know how this game is played. We’ve both read this story before my dear. Let’s cut to the part where you hand me my Johnny. He’s mine and I want him back.”

“You will go through me before I give him back. “

“I was hoping for that. It’s been far too long since we’ve last met. I’ve heard a rumor that you’ve been looking for me and my cohorts. Well, here I am.” Moriarty opened his arms and grinned, his fangs bright against the light shining in the dark alley. “It’s been far too long, you ungrateful little bitch.”

_**~)~** _

“Henry!”

The hunter, blinked feeling her life and the memories flash quickly by, like a quick flowing river, your hands try to catch the water but you only cause ripples and nothing more.

She heard her brother, first seeing him as a child, then a young adult and finally as she last would see him. His smile gone. He was scared. So scared and it was her fault. These memories were old and they hurt. She hadn’t realized just how much of this pain she carried with her until she sat in this sudden darkness. She was falling into it and the pain of her past was pulling her under, threatening to drown her. She blinked it away, wanting it to stop, realizing she was laying down. Not in a field looking up at stars with her laughing little brother.

In fact, she was in a dark alley, dirty and the physical pain of her injuries were nothing compared to fact that she had failed once more.

“Run. Johann.” She whispered, his bright blue eyes were looking her over, hands trying to stem the blood flow at her side, shoulder, her thigh. Fucking Moriarty was strong. The years had been good for him and she, once again, was no match for him or her Uncle.

“No! Stop!” Johann stood up, his hands out, but it wasn’t Johann, was it? “Don't hurt her. You want me. Here. I’m here.”

“Come on then, Johnny boy. Come away from the foul beast, come to daddy. You’ve been so naughty and away so long! It makes daddy sad.  In fact, I’ve decided that I don’t like your new friends. You should tell daddy where they are.”

The blond young man shakily looked back at the bleeding hunter. “They left us. For some safehouse in the country. Before the sun came out. Too many Weres were looking for them.” John whimpered as his arm was roughly taken by the dark haired immortal, a cold hand cradled his chin cruelly.

“You look so handsome at this age. I’m glad I’ve waited to turn you.” Moriarty pulled the human closer taking a deep breath. “Yes.” He licked his lips. Just delicious. “You will be punished for making me wait.”

Henry tried to rise. “NO!”

She received a swift kick to her already bleeding face and then came the darkness. The echo of her brother’s voice. “We have to run Henry.”

_**~0~** _

John was pushed forcefully into a van. He lunged out as the door was being slammed shut only to be jerked back by his stoic uncle.

“You, Johnny, have been a bad kid. Can’t believe you ran away for so long. We caught you once. You should know by now-”

John looked back at the injured vamp. She was a stranger to him although her face he thought he knew. She looked so familiar to him but he knew he had never met her. She just reminded him of Harry. Well, of what Harry wanted to be.

John was still a little out of it from her glamour, why had she done that? His mother used to move him into happier thoughts. It was a form of protection. She warned against it. Reading the thoughts of vampires was just as dangerous as allowing the immortals access to his own. In that dream state, she had appeared so human and indeed she was more like Harry. However, Harry had always been angry. So angry and resentful. He could see that now she had sold him out.

He was forever lost. He wouldn’t let Moriarty have him. He refused it. Had sworn long ago he would rather die. He would wait for his chance. If he was unable to kill himself then, when he was turned, he intended to walk out into the sun. His life was over and he pushed himself into the corner of the windowless van, hugging his knees. He secured the brick wall to keep out those who would try to read his thoughts.

He took a deep breath, the strong scent of Sherlock still on the collar of his shirt. It was too bad he wouldn’t know Sherlock more. The immortal had been the first he had met that treated him almost like an equal. He smiled to himself, thinking of Lestrade. In the short time he knew the Wolf John had discovered enough. He wondered if Sherlock or any of the others knew that the Immortal Mycroft was in love with the detective inspector.

“Oh, smile all you want Johnny boy. I can smell him on you, you naughty boy. I’ll have him hunted and cut into slowly. He’ll bleed for my dear Sebby’s little disgusting minions. They’ll love his essence and, like leeches, they will suck him dry. I might be kind and throw him out for the sun. In his weakened state he would be unable to stand the harsh rays. He would burn alive. His screams would be your lullaby in the morning hours. Or I could let Sebby’s wolves have him for sport. They could hunt him on the grounds and have fun tearing him limb from limb. I don't know what will be more enjoyable to watch with you at my side. You know how changeable I am.”

John kept his face passive. He closed his eyes and pulled his knees to his chest. He wouldn’t let them do that. Sherlock didn’t deserve that. Lestrade and his pack didn’t deserve to be harmed either. John would not allow it if it was the last thing he did. He closed his eyes and thought of the memory that wasnt his, it was best he didn't stay with the pack or with the Sherlock. John wasn't allowed this happiness, his life was over the minute his gambling father lost money that wasnt his at those races.  He could hardly remember his mother's beautiful face, before the bruises and drugs. Memory is all he had and no one would take it. 

 

"Goodbye." John whispered into his knees.


	15. TURN ME

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading here's some character background! Hang in there I promise it'll get crazy in the next chapter. Poor John.

The Hunter hissed in pain. How could she not be a match for Moriarty? She had spent so long practicing her skill. How could she not be strong enough? The old ones had such power but she had thought to at least injure the smug demon. Now the immortal had Johann and she failed once more.

“John!” It was Sherlock. He appeared in a blur of belstaff and shadow, his cold anger very apparent. “Where is he?”

“They took him.” It hurt to say it and she would await the end of her life. Let the vampire kill her. Let him take her pathetic existence and snuff it out. “The Dollmaker has him. That bitch has been communicating with them this whole time. In exchange for immortality!”

Sherlock looked as if he were looking into the sun for the first time after being turned. He backed away from her.  “No.” He spoke to himself. “Not again. This can’t be happening again.”

“Fuck.” Came the groan to their left, a human stumbling out of the dark shadow of the alley. Unaware of the two predators now focused on her. “Bastards left me. That Moriarty can go do one-” She hissed touching a hand to her forehead.

Sherlock didn’t have the chance to grab up the treacherous bitch. The injured vampire was quick, even in her present state. “You! I’ll see you dead!” Henry slammed the bleeder hard against the brick of the alley.

“You won't!” She hissed, a mad smile lighting her face.

“Why wont I? Why are you smiling! You are about to be painfully disemboweled.”

“I’m not.” Harry looked the predator in the cold glacius eyes. “Because I know where they’ve gone and who has him. You aren’t going to kill me. You’re going to turn me, or he will. “

Sherlock’s teeth were visible in the light of the moon, his own eyes had gone dark and his body ready to spring.

“You betrayed your own blood.” Henry couldn’t help but make the statement, in her own heart it was a question.

“It’s for his own good. He’s fragile and naive. He doesn't know how this world truly works. But we do, don’t we? Now, do we have a deal? I really don't care who he ends up with at this point. I’m tired of always worrying about the idiot.”

Henry was conflicted. She wanted to snap the bitch’s neck like a twig; wanted to rip her throat open and watch her gasp like a fish out of water as the arterial blood spilled out.  Her wounds were painful but even a bit of blood for this traitor and she could be somewhat healed.

Sherlock made the decision for her, he took the bitch out of Henry’s grip and made quick work of turning her.

The Hunter in Harry hissed and growled in disapproval, but the drug addict turned his now black onyx eyes on her his very posture challenged, dared her to move against him. He was ready to strike holding the gasping mortal.

~0~

“These are bad. You need blood. You should have taken from-” Donovan held her breath attempting to patch up the blond demon.

“I would die before drinking from that filthy-”

“Your stubbornness would see John dead.” Sherlock sneared. “And I won't let it happen. Time is precious to us. As her sire, I will demand all information and she will give it without hesitation. However, if we attempted to interrogate her she would hold out for days; maybe until she expired. John told me how his mother, a newling, had trained the two. We would have been without information. It doesn’t matter my reasoning. You can go as soon as you are able. I do not know why you’ve even stayed around this long? We are not indebted to each other.”

“You think so?” Henry stood up, pulling away from the dog who dared touch her in such a familiar way. The wounds on her torso and shoulders were burning and that idiot were with the dark skin wasnt helping. Henry needed blood. Things were still a little hazy, although she had managed to pull together out of the daze she had been knocked into during the attack. Everything hurt and she hated the smell of this place, like dog and dirt.

The Were attending her growled, but Henry ignored the significant animal focusing her anger and rage on the immortal standing so smugly against the door to another room holding that twisted demon newly turned.

“You owe me far more than you think HOLMES! You forget your debt to me.”

“I am not the one at fault Henrietta.“ The usage of her mortal name had her lunging at him but, in her state of injury, she only collided with the locked door and empty air. The smirking dark haired vampire, her enemy was standing near the window.

“You dare!”

“I dare! Yes! I dare!” Sherlock spat and the wolves in the room, Donovan and Dimmock, shared nervous looks. The two took their place near the devil they knew and that was Holmes. Besides John trusted Sherlock as did Lestrade.

They had seen vamps brawl before but there was a darker tension between these two. The blond was holding a hand to her left side and her breathing was labored. If a vampire could sweat Dimmock guessed this one would be. She looked ready to collapse. There was something about her that reminded Dimmock of John. That tired expression. He had seen it before. Sniffing the air carefully the Were did catch a familial scent, but that didn't mean anything. She could share a kin scent. The years could have washed the stronger blood scent free.

For this reason Dimmock took a steady step closer to her, his hands out in a show of neutrality, “Hey! We don’t need this right now. You both want to find John? Me too. This infighting is not what we do. We need to stick together. Now, Lestrade is waking up and, as soon as Sherlock’s brother has finished that phone call he deemed so important that no one bother him, I’m sure he’ll want to be informed of this new turn around.”

Dimmock looked between the two. “Now, I don’t know what this story is. However, I know John being naive and so very human would not wish us to be at each other’s throats. We have enough enemies as it is and we don’t need to add each other to it. A pack needs to stay together.” The blond hissed in disgust. “Hey, you don’t need to be with the pack, lady, however you’re here. I don’t know why, but you are. So live with it. As long as you are you will follow the simple commands of the pack leader.”

“Oh? Is that you, dog?” Dimmock took a deep breath ignoring Sherlock’s snickering and the obvious words of disdain.

“No. Not it’s not. It’s Lestrade. He’s our pack leader. And for some reason he’s chosen to take in these Holmes brothers. They are, whether they like it or not, a part of our pack. If you don’t like it you can get out. However, you won't get too far. So I suggest you sit and we’ll figure out the blood issue. “

“I don’t need it. I’ll heal.”

“Right.” Dimmock sighed rubbing a hand through his hair. “Well, I’m no doctor but I know that's not going to work. And we might need all the help we get when it comes to helping John.”

She didn’t reply and Dimmock looked to Sherlock. “Now, please tell me you have a plan because turning that turncoat in there has to be part of some bigger scheme. If not, I’ll go in there and end her myself for what she did. John’s sister or not.”

Sherlock nodded. “All will be revealed. We must wait for the venom to take affect. Her body was disgustingly fragile from the use of Vampire blood but she should be coming round. Then we will have the destination we need.”

“You’re sure about this? I mean she seemed pretty fucking fearless, stupidly so.” Donovan finally piped in.

Sherlock nodded, glancing across at the now sitting blond. “A newling, once turned, cannot go against their sire. They remain loyal to the sire until the time of the sire’s demise. Only then can one be free. Just like with wolves that are blood bonded.”

The blond hissed again, trying to pull her legs up to her chest. She was resting her blond head on her knees her breathing labored.

“Right, Donovan!” Dimmock hissed, “Have Anderson and Keller find a donor or a blood bank. She’s banged up bad and Sherlock here is going to need another pint himself.”

Donovan knew better than to protest. She nodded and hurried out, not used to taking orders from Dimmock, however, she didn’t want to be in the room anymore. Too much tension made her inner wolf demand freedom and she didn't trust she could keep the wolf from destroying that annoying blond.

“You. Come on. There's another room far from the stink of the traitor where you can and will rest until blood is brought over. “

Henry wanted to protest, however, she wasn’t strong enough. She could barely stand. “John must have thought highly of you. He turned himself over so you could keep breathing. Let’s not disappoint him by dying, yeah?”

Henry gave in, she just was too tired for it. Everything hurt and, dammit, if this were and that bloody idiot Sherlock had made some important points.

When Dimmock found the empty room with the heavy black cloth covering the boarded up window, he helped the injured woman to sit. Her blood was staining his own clothes. He sniffed it again. There was a faint kinscent. That must be why she was so protective of John? They were related but where had she been this whole time? Dimmock had met the young Doctor and he didn't look to be wealthy or to have anyone to call family. It was surprising to find he had an addict sister and this, this immortal was somehow a relation.

“You have similar eye color.” Dimmock pointed out. “And there's that faint kinscent. So are you his Great great great great ect aunt? Grandmother?”

Henry frowned, laying back and accepting the handkerchief the wolf was handing her to apply to one of the deep of wounds drenching her left side. Bruised lips thinned and, though it hurt her head, she made a face. “What are you going on about?”

“Ah, come on it’s no secret. I‘m sure Holmes smelled it too. The kinscent its faint. Kinscents do that if the blood has been washed out over the centuries by taking veins and what not, but it’s there. And you share his eyes. Well, except John’s are more alive, kinder and less sharp. “

“I have no family. They are all dead.” Henry looked away from the mad dog, signaling the end of the conversation. However, to her horror the beast was taking a seat on the dusty old wood floor near the small cot she had been lain in.

The dog had his back to her. Was he not going anywhere? Should she shoo him off. Where was a rolled up paper when you needed one?

“You can trust me. I wont tell nobody. It’s clear you care for him. Except, the way you scowl when you say his name makes me wonder if you hate him.”

“I don’t hate him.” The Hunter huffed. “I don’t know him. He just looks-”

“Ah, he reminds you of someone, eh?”

The blond huffed, rolling her eyes. God, she was tired and this dog was annoying. Although, his voice was welcome to her own chaotic thoughts.

“How old are you? Um- is it Henrietta?”

“Has anyone ever told you that it’s a bit not good to ask a woman her age? And NO ONE calls me Henrietta. Except my mum and she’s been dead now almost six hundred years. “

“So you are about that six hundred years old. Not in too bad shape then for an old bird.”

  
Henry rolled her eyes holding back a painful sigh, however, her lips, despite herself, started to tease a smile. She was glad the dog couldn’t see her. “Shut it, pup.” was this were really joking with her. How long had it been since she had a laugh?

“Alright, alright. Sensitive, I guess for such an old lady. We wolves live for a long time. I myself haven't met any old ones. I’m just about in my early thirties really. I wonder how long I’ll go for. I hope I get to keep this youthful appearance. Can’t say I have any family though. They’re all gone. Me dad used to work for the yard. Some vamps got a bit unruly and he stepped into the middle to keep the peace. Stake to the heart kills anyone just the same. Wolves mate for life so mum just walked out to London bridge and did a dive. That’s how I met Donovan. Her Da was friends with mine, took me in.”

“That explains the shared stench.”  Henriette muttered, “It’s hard to tell. All you were’s smell the same. And Lestrade is a bit older than me I’m sure. I remember him.”

“ Lestrade really? Well anyway, when we are in pack it’s not unusual. Unlike you soulless albinos, we tend to take care of our own. There are no orphanages for our pups. Wolves mate for life. Must be nice to not have a heart. Makes it so you don’t die from a broken one.”

Henry shifted so she was now turned more comfortably with her back to the wall. She studied the back of the Wolf’s neck. There was a pulse and her body thirsted but she shook the tremors back. He was an odd one. Less annoying but still stinking of dog and damp earth. Well, less of earth. More of rain and trees. Where did he find trees to run through in the city? And had it rained?

“We have a heart. Despite what you think. It’s there, and it beats, albeit at a slower pace. Keeps us frozen in time almost. However, we age, just by centuries less by the minute. Years are different but we can feel everyone of them. Indeed, you may mate for life as short as it is. We remember for eternity. Our deeds good, bad, the faces that long since turned to ash in the breeze of times. I had a brother once. I had a brother.” She frowned. Admitting it out loud didn’t hurt so much.

“He died. And my heart still broke. It shattered into such painful pieces and though, I wanted to die, I went on living. His scent is lost to me yet, in my memory, he is there forever imprinted. I wish I could draw a picture. However, I am no artist and he died before the making of film and cameras. No artist painted his features. Even then no artist, no matter how expert, could capture the softness of my brothers eyes. The warmth of his laughter, or the scent of hard labor out in the fields, and the newly pollinated flowers that clung to his clothes and seeped into his tanned skin. He laughed and everyone would be compelled to join in. The world seemed to shine brighter with him in it and, in my stupid youth, I neglected to notice this. Too late he was taken from me. “

Dimmock was turning now, looking over his right shoulder studying her pained face. “I killed him. I killed him and Sherlock helped.” She closed her heavy lids, not wishing to feel the judgment of Dimmock the Werewolf.

Instead, she allowed herself to drift off, holding onto a memory that both pained and eased her.

~0~

Sherlock had been listening, his head against the wall to the left of the closed door. It wasn’t hard to overhear. He, after all, had superior hearing. Her self incriminations were his own and he hadn’t realized his hands were in balled in fists at his side. John would not be Johann. He would not let him down.

“Sherlock.” Mycroft approached his younger brother, the elder looked exhausted. "The wolves, with Anthea's aid, have procured some blood. I-I have already had some. It’s your turn.”

Sherlock nodded without argument, surprising the older vamp “Sherlock.” Mycroft stopped his brother, almost reaching out to take his shoulder. “I apologize for my lack of willpower.”

“Don’t be a fool, Mycroft. They starved you. I know, as does Lestrade, that you would never have lost control otherwise.”

Mycroft nodded, clearing his voice. “All the same. Thank you.” Mycroft straightened, looking uncomfortable and hating how he spoke to the back of his brother’s head. The boy still had no use for manners, in all these years.

“Have you gone to speak to Lestrade?” Sherlock asked simply without turning.

“No. Not as of yet. I was however briefed on our new situation. We should move. Anthea will take the others to a safe house. It’s too dangerous to be associated with us. We can take care of this-”

“You should not take the coward's way out Mycroft. Lestrade will not see it as protection. Go speak to him before you miss your chance.”

Mycroft ran a hand over his wan face. He loathed what he had done. He had tasted the blood of his colleague/friend? Lestrade always claimed friendship and Mycroft saw it as one sided. Until now. Was this how Sherlock felt? Knowing he had craved the blood and taken until the life in his hands no longer fought to be free? Having never tasted wolf before he had nothing to compare it to other than human blood. Lestrade had tasted like rich coffee beans and a summers breeze. Mycroft wondered if he was just feeling the thirst after a starvation period. He pushed the pull towards Lestrade away.

The elder vampire was thankful for his brother’s intervention as well as the Hunter. Now they would strike at their enemies and show them what it was to use one's friends as pawns against them.


	16. Acquainted with the night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock remembers. John tries to forget.

Sherlock waited for the Wolf to leave the Hunter’s side before entering the room. He was stronger now, the blood had helped a bit. However, he wouldn’t admit that to Mycroft. The man was already impossible with his misplaced guilt. Sherlock knew guilt, he had made a life of it allowing it to hang over him; his constant companion leading him down the darkest paths. Glancing at Johann’s sleeping sister he thought he could do something, for Johann.

He owed Johann. He owed him something. It was a funny thing, youth. Sherlock had been so spoiled and Johann had tried to show him, tried to make him better. Sherlock hadn’t listened. Hadn't  paid close attention.

He sat down on the floor near the the Hunter’s cot. She was weak from blood loss and her wounds. Anthea would be showing up to bring blood for her so he could do this quick. He closed his eyes and tested her mental guards. They were down.

~0~

**  
  
  
**

Sherlock touched Johann’s bleeding neck, smearing the blood on his lips. The human was glaring at him and the vampire was still a little dazed.

“There you are, you idiot. You can’t just say something like that to your father. The man is a maniac. He's some kind of demon from hell. You need to stay down.”

“They cut you Johann. They aren’t to touch my-” The vampire grimaced, allowing the human to push him back onto the bare cot in the corner of his darkened room.

“things, yes I know. Only you can damage your pet.” The human sounded exhausted and was pulling a raggedy quilt over the long body. The quilt smelled like the human just as the bed did. This was Johann's bed of course.

Sherlock shook his head. Johann was so perfect with his head of tousled golden hair, like the sun. He was the sun reflecting so much light. Sherlock sensed her but he didn’t look away from Johann. This was a memory and he would share it with her.

“No, Johann, I was going to say friend.”

Johann sat down with his back to the vampire in the cot. He had several bite marks healing on his arm and neck. Sherlock had seen the dark bags under the human’s blood shot eyes, the bruises on his face and neck. The smell of blood was thick and delicious but there was a sour scent there, too. Johann had been mishandled.

“Friend, huh?” Johann sighed, wincing as pulled his knees towards his chin. “You know this is a start.”

“Yes. Friend. I’ve never had one and I’ve decided that’s what you are.” Sherlock was staring at the back of the human's head.

“You could always glamour me into being your friend, Sherlock.”

“Then it wouldn’t be real. I love you-”

“You don’t, Sherlock. You really don’t. I wish I could love you like you need but I can’t. I wish someone could love you. We all need a little bit of love. Even vampires-”

“Why can’t you love me? Why do you love Mary?”

“She’s pregnant, Sherlock. The last time I ran away we spent time together. That's why I was so keen this time to get away. I was mad with it. She’s alone. And I love her. Love is this light in your heart that keeps you warm and hopeful in the darkest of days. Love is being unselfish and knowing when it's time to let go. I’m going to let her go.”

Sherlock only heard his human’s words. "I wish I could love you. I wish someone could love you.”

“They’ll kill her if they find out where I’ve been running off to. Your brother Mycroft stopped them from killing me this time. I don’t think your father will let me live too much longer. My use is coming to an end. They’ve cut the tendon on my heel so I can’t even run if I wanted to. I can take the whipping but I can’t take losing Mary or you. “

Sherlock hadn’t heard the words then. It wasn't until much later when he reflected on Johann’s little speech that he understood a little. "I don’t need you, Johann. Go. “

“Sherlock?”

“Go! Just leave. Return to your Mary. I will tell whomever asks that I killed you myself and tossed your body to the dogs. I’m smarter than they are. A death is easy to stage. Go, before I change my mind. Go and live your life.”

John stood up. “You’re serious?"

“Isn’t that what you want? Your freedom? I grant it to you. I no longer need your services, Johann McWalters. Leave!”

John frowned, backing up. “Sherlock-”

“I’m not a fool, Johann. I know about your schemes with that Wolf. You think me as dense as my brothers? Preoccupied with their own piety!? GO! I hate you! I don’t need friends! I don’t need your pity! I don’t need love! Love is so useless. Look what’s it’s done to you. It’s a needless distraction. It takes me away from the work.”

“Sherlock?”

“I said go!” the vampire sat up and pushed the human roughly. “Go or I’ll kill you! Go and never come back!”

The human scooted back, having fallen on his back he scrambled to his feet and without another word was gone. Johann was gone.

Johann was gone and Sherlock was alone in the cold room. There would be no fires burning. Humans were fragile things. They needed warmth. He was not human. Why did he crave the warmth?

He didn’t look in the direction of the blond Vampire. He heard her startled gasp but this was his memory. He would savor it and he could feel the heaviness in his hollow chest increase.

That was the last coherent memory of Johann he would hold. Then,  in the blink of his eyes, he was holding a limp and bloody Johann. Dead, the blood on his lips told him he had taken until there was nothing to give. He had drained Johann and he couldn’t remember. By the look of the human’s damaged shirt and deep neck wound, Sherlock hadn’t been gentle. There were cuts everywhere and he had given Johann a shake, screamed his name and wailed like a child who had lost a pet. Johann wasn’t a pet. He had been human and the only friend Sherlock had ever known.

~0~

Henry sat up in bed as if a burst of cold water had been tossed on her. She was taking deep breaths to try and calm herself.

“Woah there. Bad dream?” As silly as it sounded the young Wolf’s scent was almost anchoring and she allowed the strong arms to rest on her shoulders. Then a warm bag of blood was lifted to her lips and instinct took over quickly. Her mind was wild now, her heart pounding. What was that? What had that been? Why would such a dream come to her? She must be weaker than she thought. “Slow down there. There's plenty. That scary dark haired vamp acquired quite a bit, which is good cause, as resourceful as our pack is, we would look strange asking where to find blood.”

Henry nodded, slowing down the pull of the hard plastic blood bag was foreign under her lips, her teeth having punctured the plastic easily. “It’s not the same as straight from the source but it will do.”

“Well, here’s another one. Everyone's getting mobilized. That Mycroft vamp has some plan. “

**  
  
**

~)~

“Johnny, my boy, you’ve returned home to daddy. Oh, how I’ve missed you!” That familiar sing song voice had John’s stomach recoiling. He fought to keep the bile rising in his throat down. They had stripped him and forced him to wash, all the while his uncle sneered at him. Then they had marched him into this familiar bedroom, the one with the unlit fireplace, the lack of warmth. The room was dimly lit, the wood floor was just as polished and cold as it’s owner. No pictures hung on the walls. John was okay with that. Fewer eyes to witness his humiliation.

The human was wearing a red silk robe that came up high on his muscular thighs. He had tied the silk belt around his waist knowing it was useless. No sense to be modest around James Moriarty. Not this time.

“You’ve been a naughty boy, my Johnny. I was so sad, I mourned you. I have to say that was new to me. You really really hurt daddy.”

John tried not flinch from the monster standing over him. James Moriarty wasn’t much taller than John Watson. He wasn’t built muscular. He was slender and thin. The immortal's skin was white ivory and, perhaps in his human life, he would have seemed a bit off with the cool sparkle of his green eyes. That madness that danced around his persona, in another life he would be less terrifying and easy to write off. However, he was a vampire and his aura screamed deadly, just like any viper.

He walked like a snake ready to strike at any moment, his green eyes calculating and always undressing or breaking down a victim. Searching for any weaknesses, calculating the pain that could be inflicted. James Moriarty was a monster through and through. In another life he could have simply been a woodsman’s son. Too small for the hard work of labor his father may have sold him off as a blood doll only for the boy to return years later and slaughter the animals and the remainder of his human blood line.

The monster eyed his prey, hands cupping the the clean shaven face he leaned in and took a deep breath. “I’m glad you’re all clean for me, John. I’m going to have fun bleeding you. I won't turn you right away. Not until I’ve had my fun. I know you let him touch you. You reeked of him. You’re mine, John! MINE! If you have any feelings for him I suggest you let them die now. You won't be seeing him. I will have him gutted slowly with silver and laid out to dry in the sun. He will burn from his injuries. I’d like to see him starve however, I want him to see you taken by me in  so many ways. I’ve sent my men out to find him. My revenge will be complete, Johnny.”

John flinched as his wrist was taken roughly and he tried to pull away instinctively. Forgetting his promise to stay still, to not give James the pleasure of his fear, he tried to keep his mind blank, to keep his guards up. Sharp teeth were scraping roughly over his wrist towards the inside of his elbow. He knew it would hurt this time but he would not give up Sherlock’s whereabouts. He would be strong as long as he could be. He tried to lose himself in his mind.

The teeth bite down roughly, but the mouth did not pull. It, instead, moved on to pull the robe from him, gripping his wrist in a vice like hold.

“Johnny boy, you know why you’re here? It’s because of him you’re here. You see, you were the revenge I’ve wanted. You look so much like his little pet. The one he murdered. The one that murdered my dearest Victor. Beautiful Victor. Your line was thought to be ended but that bitch Mary obviously managed to trick me. Must be something in your genes. No matter. I will have you. A taste first until our guests show up. Our predictable guests." John tried to hold back his fear but his body trembled as he was pulled against the vampire in the expensive gray suit, green eyes dancing. Teeth sharp and already stained red, he bit mercilessly into John’s shoulder. The one with the scar from war.

He had awoken from his injuries years back to find his uncle standing over him ready to take him back to Moriarty. John had managed to get away then and he was sure he could somehow do it again, or he would end his own life trying. He would not be a blood doll. He would not be a pet to this monster.

“You understand, my dearest Johnny boy. You have to. All of this is Sherlock’s fault. You see, if he had kept his original pet under better control my dearest Victor would still be at my side. Victor was nothing like you cowardly humans. He was smart and clever. He liked pain and fed off of me as I did him. I trained him so well and then your filthy ancestor came along and stole him! I was grooming him as a lifelong mate! And so quickly he was taken!”

John felt an anger start to rise up. It quickly overcame self preservation and fear. “You mean to tell me you have murdered everyone I loved over some slight my great ancestor made against you? A slight that this pet of yours most likely bloody well deserved to be murdered! You are insane!”

“No, Johnny, not insane. I was in love! And now, I’ll have what’s owed me! I’ll spill your blood until I’m exhausted only to bring you back from the brink over and over again until the burning and the pain causes you to beg me to end you or turn you.”

John closed his eyes as the monster before him growled and lunged pushing the blond back onto a four post bed made of antique oak and covered in red silk sheets. Something just a little overdramatic the blond thought, seeking to find a way to distance himself from the pain that was about to come. He tried to bury himself deep inside his mind but as the monster sank his teeth into John’s wrist the doctor screamed out for Sherlock. This only enraged his master and, like a shark smelling blood in the water, his eyes dilated and the monster sank into a frenzy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the wait!!! friends! work is crazy! I'm going off to Vegas on thursday! eeek, it's super scary leaving Baby Leach and Teen Leach with family for a WEEEEEEK! Husband Leach is super excited!. So i'm gonna write like crazy! these next couple of days! Thanks for hanging on!


	17. The Broken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mind the tags it's getting a little darker now. Another chapter is on the way!!!! I survived Vegas! I have souvenirs for some of my good friends! My first time on a plane wasnt as scary as I thought, and Las Vegas never sleeps. So glad to be home with my babies and kitty.

“He won't want you after I’ve had you Johnny. After I’ve marked you! He won't come anywhere near you.” John didn’t have the strength to cry out from the harsh thrust, the invasion and humiliation of being so weak. The physical pain was nothing compared to what James's words did, the damage was in the truth. Moriarty knew that John had feelings for Sherlock and any chance for a future with anyone, let alone the dark haired genius would end tonight. He blacked out, his face buried in the silk sheets unable to move or fight, the blood loss and physical abuse enough to pull him into the darkest of nightmares that sleep offered.

“Oh, poor Johnny.” The dark haired vampire grunted reaching release, spilling into the abused human’s hole. “You will get used to it. I fear I may have taken more than I should have. Forgive me, I was a little excited.” The naked vampire licked the blood from his lips, glancing down at the unconscious human, bruises lined his back and hips. A shiver of elation ran up the vampire's pale back. If he were alive he would have goosebumps.

John’s scent was delicious. Revenge was fun but this, this was addicting. He tisked over some of the deeper marks, rolling the unconscious human over to examine his work. John was riddled with dark bruises and Moriarty’s fingerprints. He was nothing like Victor. Victor had moaned and keened. Victor enjoyed the pain, he enjoyed James.

However, John was far more delicious. He was untouched and so breakable in his human state. He tasted like summer and a warm spring where he would roll around with his father’s farm hand clumsily seeking adolescent release.

John was his and he would not give him up. He would take pleasure in breaking him over and over again. With that thought he bit into his own wrist, the dark blood pooling. “Time for round two, my dear." He forced the younger man to drink, knowing it would bring his strength back partially. Didn't want to give him too much. Just enough to wake him from his drained exhaustion.

“Let’s put that pretty mouth to work. It’s so much more fun with you awake and screaming.”

**_~0~_ **

Lestrade glanced around the room, the Vampires had arrived as backup. Right away, he recognized Anthea and then he realized that Mycroft was moving out. The vampires had blocked them in the small living area of this abandoned place.

The DI was still a little sore but nothing too bad. He swore he would bring down the council for what they tried to do. How dare they, how fucking dare they.

“I’m sorry DI, your pack will remain behind as we go forward. For your own safety.” Anthea announced quickly as Lestrade tried to walk around the vampire. The Hunter had entered the room just as Dimmock had tried to head towards the door.

“The hell we are.” Lestrade growled in his gravelly voice. “Move aside. We don’t take orders from you. Oi! Mycroft!” Lestrade called out, but the auburn haired vamp continued to walk away as if tonight his exceptional hearing was no good. Lestrade swore under his breath and his own wolves took a step back waiting for his next order. All except Dimmock.

“John is part of our pack, like it or not. “ Dimmock joined in, ready to push past the five adult vamps.  “I’m going with or without you.” He snarled and growled.

Henry was feeling like herself now. The blood had been top grade and she felt so rested and something else. Something she couldn’t put a name to. However, when one of Mycroft’s men had reached out to take the young wolf by the back of his neck she was reacting quickly.

Her own blade was presented and placed to the offender's neck. “Touch him again and at the very least you will be losing a hand.” She hissed, pulling the young wolf back by his arm.

“Hey!” Dimmock tried to pull free.

“This is not a fight or a negotiation.” Anthea put her hand up to be sure her men stood down. “Hunter, we are on the same side. “

“Are we?”  She bit out daring the dark haired vamp to contradict her.

“What is this?” Sherlock hissed, pulling the newly turned vampire behind him. The room fell silent. “John is out there with that maniac and my brother Sherrinford is still alive. Whatever the issue is, it’s nothing in comparison to the big picture. Now, I suggest we all stop wasting time! “

The room was silent and Lestrade turned to the changed bleeder, her skin was more porcelain and her hair had grown back almost instantly. It hung messily around her shoulders, her eyes dark and pupils red. It was always like that in the beginning; he observed in his long years. Soon, her eyes would take on their original color, and her hair would revert to the color and length it was before she had lost her humanity, before illness and addiction. In fact, she almost looked like the Hunter’s twin.

“Why is she still alive!” The Hunter took a step forward, unaware she had pushed the growling Dimmock behind her.

“Because I know where Johnny is. Isn’t that the question? Or is it where is my Uncle keeping him?”

“Your Uncle?” Lestrade demanded.

“I don’t know how true that is but he says he’s our uncle. Has always said so. Surprise, it’s Moran.”

No one in the room moved, even Mycroft who had come in to address the tension remained stalk still.

“Oh, sad. Did the perfect little Johnny forget to mention that? Did he forget to tell you the bigger secret? The fact he knows about caring for Wolves because my Uncle breeds them for fighting. John was to patch them up and get them back in the cages. Did he tell you that my Uncle is a self loathing Were himself? Everyone assumes he’s a vamp but he’s not. Now that will change things. Huh.” She laughed as if drunk. “Look at that. Not so hungry to rush into danger after the little liar liar pants on fire.” She giggled. “He always tries to pretend he’s better than but he’s not. He’s just another big fat liar. Fooled you all, didn’t he?”

Sherlock hissed, pulling the newlings arm painfully behind her back. She smiled wickedly thoroughly enjoying herself.

The Hunter met Sherlock’s eyes. If she were a human the blood would have visibly drained from her face. It was true then. A cold rage fell over her. “It’s true?” She reached for the ex bleeders shirtfront, the little bitch was smart enough to take a step back behind her sire and, rubbing her arm, she peeked out from behind him.

Sherlock wasn’t moving, his eyes were distant, and Lestrade went to the nearest wall and, breaking the silence with his fist going through it.

The smell of blood filled the air, setting the newling off, as well as putting some of the vamps on edge. Even Anthea took a step back.

Mycroft was there, suddenly holding a white handkerchief and wrapping it quickly around the wolve's bleeding fist. He hissed at his entourage. They understood and Anthea pulled them back out of the room. Several of the men had looks of astonishment, as their leader hardly ever got his own hands dirty, let alone with that of a dog's blood.

“This is not a negotiation.” Mycroft held his breath. Lestrade looked into the tall Vamp's cool gray eyes. “I need you to take your pack to a secure location. This doesn’t have to be your fight.”

Mycroft squeezed the wolf’s damaged hand harder. The DI refused to grunt or let on that he was in pain. Instead he met the Vampires cool eyes, a silent challenge. “It’s too late for that.” Lestrade stated gruffly.

“I can’t let you-”

“This isn’t about you. I don’t take orders from you Mycroft Holmes. I made a promise, gave my word a long time ago. I intend to make good on it.” The wolf pulled his hand back, holding the handkerchief over his now throbbing nuckles. That wasn’t the smartest thing, but dammit, he was angry.

No one but Dimmock noticed the blond Hunter slipping out. No one followed but Dimmock. He understood there was more going on but he didn’t know the full story. He understood that John was in danger and the young Wolf refused to leave his friend. Where he stood, Lestrade hadn’t said he couldn’t go after the Hunter, not that he asked and anyway, the blond vamp wasn't half bad for a vampire. She was even kinda hot. Not that he was into vamps. She might need back up. Exactly why he was following her.

**  
  
**

**_~0~_ **

“Oh, come off your high horse, Mycroft. Just tell him what you need to and let's go find John.”

“Brother, for once in your long annoyingly selfish life, will you be silent.” Mycroft glared at everyone.

“Out!” Sherlock snapped to everyone, dragging the blond newling towards the door. “Let's give these two love birds some privacy.”

Lestrade rolled his eyes. Where Sherlock Holmes had picked up a silly idea like that was beyond him. He was only Mycroft’s lackey, some underling to take orders. Well, not today, today they were on equal ground. Both exiled by their own people. Lestrade was happy to have his pack with him. He never thought he would have a pack again, not after SHE had betrayed him, broke his heart and tricked him.

However, he had lived with the guilt of leaving Johann behind for centuries. Dishonor would always be his. It wasn’t Mycroft’s business. It wasn't anyone's but his own. He couldn’t ask his pack to follow him, not this time. This was a debt he could repay. How it came to be he couldn’t say, but he was going to settle this. Even if it costed him his life.

Mycroft was near a window. He had pulled the dark curtain back, allowing some of the moonlight to stream in. Lestrade thought the vamp was beautiful in the moonlight, his eyes were like reflective pools of water. The kind he would drink from in his youth, before pollution, before the woods had somehow shrunk inward.

There had always been an unsettling silence between the two. Lestrade had run from the Holmes estate, but not once had he seen Mycroft Holmes near the cages. It was a requirement for the nobles to watch and place bets on their favorite fighters.

“I am not a vampire of many words. I never have been. So, I will keep it short. You understand who my family is. I understand we have a history.”

“If you are referring to how I owe your brother a right beat down for imprisoning me and my kind, forcing us to fight. Then blood bonding some of the strongest pack families to him so, for centuries, they are forced to do his bidding. To protect that filth. Then you’re wrong. I don’t have history with you, Mycroft, or Sherlock other than trying to keep that damn fool from harming himself or others. I have business with Sherrinford Holmes. “

Mycroft frowned, not expecting this speech from the silver haired wolf. “You aren’t as bad as some vamps I’ve met. I understand you have a position high enough in the council that they would try and frame you. I don’t follow vamp politics but I swear I’ll be getting my retribution against the white council. However, that  will have to wait. I made a promise to a young human five hundred and forty-seven years ago that I would meet him-that I would help him get back to his love. Like a coward, I chose to run. I knew he didn’t stand a chance once they took him back. He was bleeding and injured already. He reeked of that traitor Victor. His blood was still on the boy's hands. He saved us that night. He saved us and condemned himself. Fucking Victor. I told the kid he couldn’t be trusted but he thought the bastard wanted to be free. Except, when Johann started unlocking cages, Trevor changed his mind. He started shouting, he was going to give us away. John tried to cover his mouth but there was a struggle.“ Lestrade shook his head, turning away from Mycroft’s sudden searching grey eyes.

“We all watched, too terrified to move. Everyone knew Victor Trevor was Moriarty’s favorite blood doll. It was Johann to kill the filth. Goddess help me, we left the body there in the stables and we left Johann in that forest. So, you see, I have to help John. If he truly is Johann’s descendant, then I will find my absolution. I won't let you get in my way.”

“If you are captured by my brother, you know what he is capable of. I can’t promise you my protection from that. When I myself can’t be-”

“Mycroft. I am not a pup just born yesterday. I know that you were put into a difficult situation. I don’t hold it against you.”

Mycroft looked as if he wanted to say more but Lestrade waved it off, “Let's go before Sherlock decides to go rogue and get his fool self killed.”

~0~

Lestrade and his pack didn’t make it further than two blocks from their hide out before several fairly large black sedans surrounded their small caravan. His pack was in a black sudan behind him. They were headed to another location where they could lay low until Lestrade gave them further orders. Something they had protested but he could not bring them with him, not into the uncertain danger. Seeing any one of them blood bonded would break him. He left Donovan in charge and swore he was going to thrash Dimmock as soon as he found the kid. He tried using his Alpha status to find the younger were. He was a distance away. All Lestrade could feel was that he wasn't alone or afraid. He was following the Hunter. Damn him. And  he had turned his mobile off. Idiot kid.

Now, they were surrounded. The vamps jumped out first ordering the Were’s to stay put. Lestrade wasn’t one to take orders. Now now. Not from newlings.

There was yelling and growling, guns were drawn, but Lestrade pushed himself forward. “Oi! I know you!” He growled “I know a couple of you. Hard to forget these things.”

The gray haired were glared at the were with an ugly scar running down his face. Richard looked to the woman to his right, she was frowning as well as Henrick. The three of them had been in a similar situation before hadn't they?

“A debt is owed. Will you take the coward's way or will you help us?”

“What the hell are you on about, Lestrade? You’re the one taking up with rogue vamps.”

Lestrade went to where an angry Sherlock was being held back by Donovan and Mycroft. “We are wasting our time!”

Lestrade ignored the younger Vamp and only took the blond newling near by. He grabbed her arm and she tried to pull free. “I’m enjoying this little display. Hey! Let go! “ She growled.

Mycroft remained close to his brother, his first priority was always to Sherlock. Some agreement was being reached and the vamp enforcers all retreated into their sudans. Two of the three government cars turned around and one remained behind. The wolves stood as Lestrade turned to approach Mycroft.

“Looks like we’ll have back up.”

“What did you say boss?” Donovan asked curiously, taking the angry blond newling by the arm and shoving her into the suv.

“I have my ways. Now let’s stop wasting time. We have until sunrise.”

Sherlock straightened his coat, pulling his arm free of his brother’s now loosened grip. “Oh, put your tongue back in your mouth brother. We don’t have time for your love struck ridiculousness.”


	18. release, released

John tried to breath but breathing hurt. Everything hurt. Even though the weight of Moriarty was gone the memory of him would never be. His throat was sore, he tasted the hated warmth of vampire blood on his cracked and bruised lips. He had been forced to drink so many times, opening his one good eye, the other was swollen shut he peered around the room. It was quiet here, he had been placed in a windowless room, the dark was everywhere. He knew this nightmare, remembered it from childhood. This tiny cell had felt bigger when he was younger, shaking hands reached out and touched the walls trying to locate the door.

Deep breaths John, you are still alive.  At least he wasnt naked, he could feel his shirt was thin and soaked either by sweat or blood he hated to know. The boxers were in the same condition, he shivered. They would question him soon, he could remember that much after James finished spilling into his mouth. John started to heave now, there wasnt anything in his stomach except remnants of what he was forced to swallow and blood.

How had he ended up here? How could Harry do this? They could have been free together, they could have become someone else. Run. He had run and never looked back, why couldn’t she do the same? James had called him Johann like Sherlock, like Lestrade. What had this Johann done, and why was John paying for the strangers supposed crimes?

Why was he here! Sure Harry had handed him over, given away his location just to be turned into one of these monsters. But John was the one to blame for this, he should have known better. He was so stupid and trusting. Stupid, foolish John. Dammit Harry.

 

The blond human shivered, there was an ache in his neck, shaking fingers lightly touched what he guessed was a deep bite mark. He was right, there were several of them on his thighs and chest as well.

The door opened and the light streaming in made him flinch away from it, there wasn’t any room to back away, not from the continuation of his nightmare.

“There you are Johnny boy. Boss says we can’t have any fun with you. But we have been given orders to discipline you some more. Looks like you’re gonna be turned some time soon after Moriarty finishes up playing with his food. We are gonna take you to the branding room. You remember, but it’s you that’s going to be marked as property. Might test out the irons before we use the silver one. “ Cruel hands reached in, it was the one his Uncle called Smiley, the scar on his face was made with silver. A punishment he wouldn’t forget, it was a reminder to not cross James.

“Come one Johnny boy. When they use the silver to scar you even vamp blood wont heal it. And it will show so brightly after we clean it with salt water. Got a nice hot bath waiting for that.”

John was too weak to fight, he had to wait for a chance to get away, he was being dragged, half carried. The two men had their hands cupping his useless arms, his good eye blinked against the dim lights of the corridor. He knew enough to see he was leaving a trail of blood behind him.

He was going to die, either by Moriarty’s hands or his own, preferably his own, he could take his life back by taking his life. He could chose when he would die, and no one would stop him. He must endure a little longer.

“Oi! You two! Where are you taking him?” John tried to stay conscious, he heart Similey hiss in irritation.

“We have our orders, what you want?”

“Your boss said I can question the prisoner a little before you beat him unconscious again.”

“It wont work, this ones a different kind of hard headed.”

“All the same.” Sherrinford growled. “He knows where my brothers are hiding and that’s important information to me and your boss’ organization. Now be a good little lackey and put him in an interrogation room.

Smiley took an angry step closer, John was left to lie on the cold cement floor, it felt nice against his aching muscles. He could hear the growl of wolves, and his heart ached to be free. He wouldn’t mind going running with Lestrade’s pack. If they would allow him, Dimmock was sweet but John wasnt interested. It had been fun being apart of something for as long as it lasted. John felt so tired, he knew Sherrinford had protection with him, and the kind of Wolves he kept were nothing like Lestrade’s pack. When all you know is cruelty how could you be anything else? Maybe that wasn’t true, he and Harry had only ever known this life, he wasnt too bad. Harry of course was a double crossing selfish addict bitch.

“You think you’re a big man but you only get to play like a big one cause you have so many dogs. You would be nothing without your blood bonded packs. “

“They will kill for me, tear to pieces anyone I instruct them to. All so I don’t have to dirty my own hands. It’s nice really.  Their pups shine my shoes and their wives keep my household going. I’ve never beded one, but I have sold a few to some of my kind who like that kind of thing. Anyway we are getting off track. Get him to an interrogation room, sit him up in a chair. I’ll bring the needed supplies, no worries I wont do anything that can’t be repaired.”

They did as they were told, and John sensed their were others in the room, his one good eye focused on Sherrinford, the mad vampire in the dark suit with a red tie. He could have been handsome if he wasnt so deranged. John’s head tilted back and breathing hurt, he wanted to sleep so bad.

“No, no. Stay awake Johnny or I’ll have to order one of my boys here to do something to help you snap out of it. Like, I dont know stab you with a very sharp knife through your hand.” Sherrinford looked over John’s shoulder and rough hands took the defenseless humans arm jerking him forward until his head hit the hard surface of a metal table. His wrist was held almost crushingly, and something sharp was pushed through the meat of his right hand. The shock of it made him cry out, he looked up blinking at the knife protruding from his now blood soaked hand.

“See John, you should pay attention. These boys may hate me but that’s because I have their blood bond. You however are a nephew to Moran, a traitor, the one that sold their families to me. So they have a different kind of hate just for you.”

“Piss off.” John groaned sliding back in his chair hunching over his injured hand. Breath just breath. He tried to stay focused it would be no good passing out at the moment.

He didn’t pull the knife from it, Sherrinford was right he needed to be alert to wake up and pay attention, he was going to die. But John Watson was not going to die alone. He needed a moment, his energy wasnt exactly overflowing. He wondered if the Wolves would attack and kill him if he was successful. And at the moment he suddenly didn't care.

**  
  
**

“Now Johnny boy. Tell me where are they?” John put his head down on the metal table, his hands in his lap. Sherrinford came closer because John was whispering, “What was that you bag of rotting meat? Speak up!” The vampire in the dark suit leaned closer to John, his head tilted towards the bloodied human.

John then sprang into action with every last bit of energy, with the thoughts of Dimmock and Donovan laughing over a card game, over Sherlock’s grayish blue eyes that sparkled when he spoke of a solved case, of his mother before she had been turned, all these memories. All of them fueled his actions, his last ditch effort. Even Harry, her betrayal, had she ever cared for him? When they were kids they would play in the park and she would push him on the swing. Or maybe he made that up.

John Watson used these memories and thoughts to push him forward, and in one swift action with the last bit of energy he pulled the knife from his hand, the blood covered silver didn’t gleam in the low light of this room. He didn’t wait to clean it off, or think about what he was doing, instead he drove it into the vampire's very chest. As a doctor once soldier his accuracy was dead on, he felt the way the bone scratch against the silver coated metal. He knew he hit his mark when the darkest blood started to spill out, squirting like a sprinkler at first. He dared look at the wide eyed expression of the proud and sadistic Sherrinford Holmes.

There were no words between them, the man tried to pull the weapon out but his hands were of no use. The silver was poisoning his system and just like that he collapsed onto the floor, like a fish out of water his mouth moved and his eyes no longer blinked. The black oily substance that was his blood was suffocating him and he drowned there poisoned and in shock.

John held his now bleeding hand, removing his shirt slowly to wrap around it, he hardly had blood to spare. Then he remembered he wasnt alone in the room.

~0~

The Hunter moved like she was the very darkness itself, her feet sailed over the rooftops as she jumped from one to the other. Unaware that below a young dark haired Wolf was following at a safe distance. On any other night she would have noticed but tonight, tonight her mind was spinning, and she needed clarity. She knew her Uncle well enough, knew what signs to look for, she had held off killing him for last. She wanted to first get to the doll makers. Where it began, with James Moriarty. The way he offered her the freedoms of guilt, of mortality of humanity. He had made it sound so easy, being changed by the monster that ran the Holmes family. She deserved it, being bound to that psychopath, and she had watched Mycroft Holmes drive that wooden stake into the monster’s heart.

Or the dead flesh he would call a heart, that was all she owed Mycroft Holmes her freedom. And for that he only asked one thing, she was to never touch his brother. The Hunter had made the deal only as long as Mycroft still lived. Instead she swore to find the Doll Maker and all those she held accountable, she would make them feel the cruelty of her loss.

Now it seemed a piece of Johann had lived, Mary had obviously given birth but who would have taken on the burden of a newborn? The Hunter would never truly know but she was glad for such an action. This meant she could repay a debt, she could end her cursed days. Maybe there was happiness in resolution instead of the dark desperation she always thought would be at the end of her days.

Her thoughts went back to the young Wolf, his words Must be nice to not have a heart. Makes it so you don’t die from a broken one.

She placed a hand over her chest, she had a heart and it was starting to beat faster than it had in years. She needed a target, now that she knew for certain that Moran and Moriarty were back in business with each other. Sherrinford would sweeten the deal. She could disappear into obscurity after she avenged her brother.

_**~0~** _

John wasn’t moving on his own, he had already used the last of his strength killing Sherrinford Holmes.

“Get him up.”

“Who is he?”

Voices were gruff, they were talking and John wanted to speak.

“No.Leave him! He’s not our problem.”

“But he freed us.”

“We aren’t free YET. He stinks of vamp! Leave him! It’ll only be a matter of time before the handlers realize that we are no longer bonded. We must get back to the estate, to our pack!”

Someone was turning him over, he tried to breath but everything hurt.

“You go!  Get out then. ” The unknown voice John could only guess belonged to Sherrinford’s bodyguards. Why would they help him? He should be dead.

“Hey, kid.” the Wolf sniffed at him, “I dont know if you know what you did? I’m going to get you safe. Somewhere safe. If there is such a place and the rest is up to you. Survival of the fittest.”

John wanted to tell the stranger that Moriarty always found him, there was no use in running. The pain of being lifted to his feet and slung over someone’s shoulder was blinding and John drifted into the cold waters of oblivion.

The sounds of guns firing stirred him from whatever dream he was sinking into. The vibrations echoed in his brain like thunder and then it began to rain. The cool water felt nice on his bruised and burning skin, he fell hard against an unforgiving surface. Everything was so blurry, and he didn’t have the will to move.

“Don’t come closer.” The stranger from earlier growled.

“Move away from him dog! I’ll send you in pieces to your master.”  John recognized that voice, it was the blond Hunter. Oh, no had she been captured too. There was no hope for freedom, at least Sherlock was okay. Right?

The rumble of snarling and deep bark vibrated the puddles of water that pooled near the barely conscious human.

“I didn’t tell you to follow Dimmock. “ The Vampire hissed.

“I don’t have a master!” the stranger growled. “You can’t have him. I will see you vamps burn! ”

The wolf that was a transformed Dimmock howled and barked again.

The blond hunter spoke, “Well you see my young friend here has already claimed John as part of his pack. Master or not, you’re standing in the way of family.”

“Family?” The stranger’s voice sounded off, unsure.

The were was pawing the ground, and John wondered if they were really outside.

“There’s a fire burning. “ The Hunter yelled at the retreating Wolf. “If I were you I would get as far away as possible.”

Then John was being nuzzled, he wanted to bat the wet nose away.

“Move dog. Can’t you see he’s hurt enough without your drool getting all over him.” The wolf sniffed and grumbled but John felt the familiar were move back.

“John. What have they done to you?” Cool hands felt his bruised neck, turning him on his back the cool rain he realized wasnt rain at all but the sprinkler system. The smell of smoke was distant but his senses told him something major was happening.

“We are getting out of here John. Dimmock. Since you invited yourself make yourself useful. Get him out of here.”

The wolf barked, “I’ll be along. First I have a score to settle. John?” The hunter was putting something to his lips and he turned his head. No more blood. John wanted to yell. No more. He could only whimper.

“Dammit John. Don’t be so hard headed, you’re beaten up pretty bad I need you to take it. Just a little.”

“Oh, isn’t this a familiar sight.”  

Dimmock growled at the new intruder.

“I had a feeling you were going to be around. You always like to watch the world burn.”

“Uncle.” The Vampire hissed, drawing her sword as she stood.

“You know your mother was my sister. She never had the wolf gene. That was me. Never understood until science became less of a witchcraft and more of an actual field of educated study. You see only the strong ones carried the gene. The others were just food for the vamps. The villages were farms, the people walking talking livestock. Your father never got that. He thought humans could be free, that’s why he sided with the wolves. I saw it all for what it was. I knew the future and that was that the Vamps would always be in power. He was a fool. And it’s ironic that you became all he hated. I bet the old fool is turning in his grave.  You know he fought the sentence placed on him by Lord Holmes. Two blood sacrifices indeed. It was my pleasure to kill the traitor.  Just like I’ll kill you. Then I’ll take your little pet there, I’m sure Sherrinford would love to add one of Lestrade’s pack to his blood bonded little slaves. Then I’m going to hand deliver Moriarty’s favorite chew toy to him.”

“Always the favorite then?” The Hunter seethed. “Well Uncle let’s see just how good you are. Dimmock get John out of here!”

John was placed  on the Wolf's back, the Were wasn’t full grown like Lestrade but he stood at chest height to the Hunter.

 

The Wolf nudged the back of Henry’s hand, she didn’t turn around. “Go on pup. I’m alright. I’ve lived this long without your concern and I’ll live long after.”

The Wolf huffed and John felt the rumble of the strong animal beneath him. The fur was soft and warm, despite being slightly damp.

 **  
**“Run along little dog! I’ll be right behind you.” Moran barked changing then and leaping at the Hunter in the narrow corridor. Dimmock growled but he had a priority to John’s safety.


	19. Chaos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> chaos and confusion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for the great reviews!!! love u all!

Everything was happening now in a series of blinks. John was safe laying in the softest pillow of fur. Even though it was wet it was comforting, and he felt so secure. They were speeding down a somewhat empty dimly lit corridor. The dog pushed through some of the unlocked doors. They were being pursued. John could feel it. He chanced a look back with his good eye, some of his strength coming back to him, perhaps it was the cool water keeping him conscious. Or the little bit of blood that managed to get into his system, damn that blond hunter.

No one pursued them, but he still felt the fear and unease. They were near an exit the wolf Dimmock came up against the locked doors. The kind of doors that needed a key card and password was needed. He whined and scratched at the door before huffing and going another way.

The vibrations, every jostled movement pained John like electric shocks to the body. The human could only moan pathetically.

The wolf whined in response then came up short, backing up slowly. “And just where do you think you’re taking our boy, mutt?”

John heard Dimmock growl in response, fear shooting through him.

~0~

Sherlock scowled at the idiot pack that decided to be helpful. The council’s lackeys managed to start a fire in the west wing of the compound. They were putting the smoke behind them but the irritating sprinkler system was activated. Sherlock just needed to find John. He couldn’t catch a scent with the smell of smoke and now wet dog.

Lestrade was staying close to Sherlock. Mycroft, the fat prat had stayed back at the borders. He was waiting for backup or some calculated reason to stay safe. Sherlock didn't care. He rushed on without his brother. Especially knowing that blond hunter had beaten him to this hidden compound. It was Lestrade’s communicating with Dimmock that led them here. Damn Henrietta for not telling him where she was going. He wanted revenge. He wanted to find some kind of closure. He wasn't fool enough to think he could find absolution or forgiveness.

What was her motivation? Was it the same? Did she think she would ride in with that lovestruck pup Dimmock? Take John somewhere far away and keep him from Sherlock?

No. He couldn’t let John go. He couldn’t keep him but he needed to watch him; at least from afar. He wouldn’t touch. Only watch. Watch him meet someone? Find a mate, start a family grow old and eventually die. He had robbed Johann of this. He could make sure John suffered no more. He would be protected.

He pushed himself forward. The scents were there. John was bleeding, bleeding a lot.

~0~

The Hunter heard the whimper of her wolf companion. No. Not her Wolf, Dimmock. He wasn't hers, not her pet, just an annoying shadow.

“Get him muzzled! The Boss likes to interrogate these free ones. He'll be perfect to sell at the market if boss doesn’t blood bond him. Get a collar on him! Let's go! You three, secure the corridor. We have intruders! The Boss wants us to meet in the garage. He won't wait. Sherrinford Holmes is on his own!”

Smiley was looking at the bleeding human as if he were a steak ready for devouring. He saw nothing else but a bleeding John, and he smelled so delicious.

“Don’t hurt him! Please! Just let him go and I’ll go with you.” John pleaded, kicking pathetically at the two vampires. Smiley only laughed, grabbing John by the back of his blood stained shirt. The vamp's cohort snapped a heavy leather collar around Dimmock’s thick neck.

“No!" and suddenly the Hunter was back in the woods facing her brother. Listening to him tell her to let the wolves go, to take him back. Let them go. The past was trying to drown her again, always there at the edges of her memories.

John had been holding Dimmock’s head in his bruised lap, several tranq darts were sticking out from the Wolf’s soft brown fur just near his left ribs. The human was damaged, and the smell of his blood was affecting the vamps. Like circling sharks.

John heard the spine chilling enraged snarl that the Hunter emitted deep within her throat.

Lestrade and two stranger Wolves, Council lackeys by the look of them, pulled up short behind Henry. The Vampire turned to them, they echoed her growl, unchanged like the gray haired wolf Lestrade.

The Hunter snapped into action, ready to tear into the vampire that in her rage filled mind held her brother.

“Oh, come on, sweetheart. Looks like someone let you change. Pitiful little bleeder, think you can-”

“That’s not my sister” John whispered almost fearfully, he sensed a bit of madness in the blond vamps darkened eyes.

The Hunter drew her deadly sword made of the purest silver. “Give him to me.” She commanded, pointing to John.

“Kill them all! Except the wolves! Bring the ones you can kill the others.” Smiley instructed, his willing entourage of bleeders and vamps. The Hunter made quick work, like the parting of the red seas, she could hear Dimmock’s drugged whine, and she could smell John’s blood.  Both forced her heart to race in her chest.

“Henriette! You-” Sherlock hissed accusingly only to be cut off.

“Shut it! They have Johann! And the cub.”

“Johann?The cub?” Sherlock started running behind the blond.

“Dimmock. He’s been drugged!  I won't let them have them!” She hissed, turning a corner. “ Now either shut up and follow me or I’ll give you a very close shave with my sword.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes but said nothing, the hunter wasn’t herself. There was a frantic stillness to her rage. Even her eyes seemed distant, and Sherlock probed her mind with his own. The flashes of memory were heavy with regret and he quickly withdrew his own mind as if burned. It was selfish to think he was the only one feeling guilty over the past.

~0~

Lestrade had been tearing into bleeders when he heard, rather felt Dimmocks distress. He came to a halt in a water slick corridor just behind the Hunter and Sherlock. They were approaching the entrance to a parking garage with caution no one spoke.

Opening the doors the Hunter entered first, ignoring the flickering lights. It could be dark in the garage. She and Sherlock both preferred the dark.

Something was happening, there was a chill in the air, one Lestrade knew all too well.

Suddenly, the lights lit up the dark garage. Several black vans were parked empty just to left of the open exit. There had been a hasty evacuation. Lestrade could smell the residual fear and blood. Blood dolls and Bonded Wolves. It turned his stomach and put him on alert.

He tasted the air for his kind. He could feel Dimmock and his fear. He was muzzled and drugged, Lestrade gnashed his teeth.

“Calm down, wolf. We’ll find him. No one will leave here until we have what’s ours.”

  
It was the Hunter that spoke with such conviction, Lestrade came up behind her feeling the Vamps bloodsoaked hand rest almost comfortably on his head.

“Well, well, well!” A familiar bone chilling lithe broke the silence. A dark haired Vamp in an expensive green suite that matched his sparkling green eyes clapped loudly. “I can’t believe this!” The vamp put his hands in his black trouser pockets. “It’s like a reunion. Is that Lestrade?” The snarl in reply made the man tilt happily back on his heels excitedly.

“This is all so familiar, isn’t it. Except Sherlly locks there isn’t chowing down on his little pet. Oh.” The Vamp placed a finger to his lips as if remembering something. “Where is our dear Johnny?” Moriarty snapped his fingers and two bleeders appeared holding an unconscious John Watson.

It was Sherlock’s turn to growl. “Easy there.” Henry hissed, even as she leaned forward on her own toes. Her every muscle tight and twitching to be allowed movement, just one quick strike.

“I thought I had shown you, dear Henry, you are no match for me. And Sherlock.” The green eyed monster tsked. “You. Look good. How long have you been clean? A week? Two weeks? When did you last eat? Hmm?” Moriarty pulled the limp human up, holding him like one would a dance partner. Sherlock could see the blood staining John’s back and legs, they had beaten him, and worse.

“Such fragile things these humans. It’s all so boring. However, this one hardly ever makes a sound, even under the cruelest pressure he remains impenetrable. Well-” The Vamp laughed licking John’s cut cheek. “Up here at least.” He giggled tapping John’s head with his free hand allowing his other to hold John in a way that his hand grabbed the humans boxer clad bum.

“Was it a surprise to find out that bitch Mary lied. She actually convinced me the baby was dead. If she hadn’t walked into the sun I would have seen her burn. Maybe that’s why I was so cruel to Johnny’s mother. Paybacks. What can I say? I believe in retaliation and vengeance to the fullest. Call me a monster, but there it is.”

“I will see you in pieces, Moriarty!”

“Please Henriette call me Jim. We’ve known each other so long. Now, you will let me walk out of here. With my little pets.”

The monster gestured to the open van to his left where an drugged Dimmock could be seen lying in a cage. “Or, and here’s the fun part, or I have your little pack member there lit on fire and while you watch him burn from within his cage I snap Johnny boy’s delicious neck.”

A vamp jumped from the van holding a can of gasoline and made to light his cigarette with a match. The side of his face was scared and Sherlock knew him from John’s nightmares.

“You can’t get away Moriarty, you’re a wanted man. The Council will find you. There's a mark on your head.” The Hunter was buying time, Sherlock could feel her mind spinning trying to find a possible out.

“Is there? After the white council starts its little war there will be a need for me again. I bet Sherrinford is just vibrating with excitement. The old laws will be brought into effect. Blood bonding. Oh, how I’ve missed owning such loyal pets! Besides, the red council has already payed me to bring down your dear brother, Mycroft Holmes. He’s a peacemaker in a time of war, useless really. Always getting his fangs into so many different pies. It’s annoying. Where is your dear old brother? Shouldn’t he have devoured that dog by now? Or did the dog get the better of the fat fool!”

Moriarty’s eyes widened then as a silver dagger protruded from his neck. He dropped John and put two hands to the flood of black blood spurting from the wound. Staggering back, he tried to take a breath.

“Thank you for your little confession. It will be perfect evidence against you, my dear idiot.” Mycroft made a face, pulling a kerchief from his pocket making a show of wiping his hands.

“Kind of you to show up, brother.” Sherlock hissed.

“Well, I don’t normally like to get my hands dirty, but for this one I’ve made an exception.”

James hissed pulling the dagger from his neck, his words garbled. “I’ll see you dead, Mycroft Holmes!”

Sherlock was pulling John out of reach and the injured maniac was screeching. “No! He’s mine! He’s mine YOU CAN'T HAVE HIM!”

Sherlock snarled, ready to strike. “Brother! We need him alive. We have other questions. I want the names of his beneficiaries.”

“You mean to keep him alive!?" Sherlock was focused on the now moaning vampire at his brother’s fee.

“For the present time. But I promise it won't be too long.”

“Kill the wolf!” Moriarty sputtered, half turning to the scared lackey, however, the Smiley employee was gone. The Hunter was already tearing off the lock to Dimmock’s cage, and with gentle hands she reached in to pull him out.

He whined his eyes glazed over. “You did good, pup. Just rest. No one will hurt you.”

“He needs medical attention!” She snapped, holding the large furry animal in her arms. “Joha-John as well.”

“Then I suggest you get them out of here as in now! I have a range rover awaiting you just in the courtyard. And more of my allies will be arriving. So I suggest you go! See to the wounded.”

Sherlock glared at the whimpering and coughing Moriarty then to his brother. “I said go!”

Lestrade took a stance near Mycroft. “It seems I won't be alone while I wait.” The elder Holmes reassured his brother.

“Keep him safe.” Sherlock demanded of Lestrade who growled at being ordered around. “If he dies I don't want to be in charge of the family. Too boring.”

 **  
**The Wolf huffed and snorted as if to hold back a giggle.


	20. beginings and endings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock has a choice concerning John.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey friends!!! hope u are all doing wonderfully!!!! heres the second to last chapter no worries theres gonna be more to this series. I just wanted to say merry xmas, happy Hanukkah, winter solstice, happy monday! without offense to anyone and their religions. If I could I would hug you all. My birthday is dec 22 and I'm feeling blessed, or lucky and happy. So let's be kind to one another, say hello to a stranger, smile to your neighbor and share a joke with a co-worker. Your friend..Marylou

Sherlock the vampire stood near the open window of the large guest room, the night blanketing the large estate. It was beautiful here. His brother had spared no expense when it came to the private gardens and the many stone paths leading into the surrounding forest.

This was home to Mycroft, the eldest Holmes, and Sherlock wondered how an immortal that spent so little time outside the office and in endless boring council meetings would have taken such care in the design of his estate.

Thinking back to his earliest memories of his brother, the young immortal a blood borne recalled his brother’s love for the horses in the stable. Mycroft had often gone on long night rides until mother had passed and then suddenly he didn't. There were no stables here, interesting, but his brother was sickeningly sentimental. Mother had loved horses. She often stood feeding sugar cubes to purebreds that father had been gifted as payment or offering of protection. She wasn’t Mycroft’s mother, but Sherlock wasn’t supposed to know that. Mycroft always claimed they’d come fromt he same wellspring. Perhaps after all these years he believed it. Foolish human feelings still lingering through the blood that contaminated their veins.

Sherlock sighed, pulling away from the large windows the heavy black satin curtains swayed behind him. The room itself was spared no human comfort. There was a fire going and the vampire was well aware of the house staff that moved around quietly almost like ghosts. They had worked to keep the room at an appropriate temperature. A human Doctor as well as vampire one kept close tabs on the human sleeping in the large king size bed. A bag of blood had been switched out once more to resupply the badly depleted blond.

Sherlock had run his fingers over the slowly healing scars. He had acted against John’s wishes and stubborn wants be dammed. Sherlock would deal with the blond hating him, perhaps hating him forever. It would be worth the fact that burns and marks would soon fade, as well as the bruises. The vampire Doctor, a specialist in his field by the name of Angus Waltermann kept the calculations tight, not wishing to give too much of the strong vampire blood to the injured young man.

Sherlock didn’t care for the Doctor, although the old one was a specialist there was something about the way he stared down at the John. This night was no different. The man came to check the bag and made a few notes on his tablet.

“He will not scar physically, despite the severity of these bites. Although, the state of his mind will be an entirely different scenario.” The Human Doctor shook her head. “It’s a wonder that he survived this physically at all.”

Sherlock ignored her words. Instead, he remained in his chair near John’s bed. He may appear to be a relaxed uninterested immortal, however, if either of these two made one wrong move he was prepared to kill them on the spot.

“He is not so weak perhaps.” The Vampire replied, and then before proceeding to pull the warm blue duvet covering John, he asked Sherlock “May I?”

The Vampire gave his permission with a quick nod and narrowed gray eyes.

“Brother, if you aren’t so busy looming over John’s Doctors, may I have a word?” Mycroft hovered in the doorway to John’s room. Still unwilling to be around anyone bleeding, Mycroft pretended that the scene bored and annoyed him. However, Sherlock could read the minute signs that his brother was nervous.

This angered him, not so much at his idiot brother but at those who had made him unsure of himself. Mycroft would forever be traumatized by the fact that he attacked Lestrade, someone Sherlock was coming to realize his brother cared for very much. Interesting that he had never given it a thought.

Not wishing to go too far from John, Mycroft only closed the door to the patient’s room and irritably began. “The corridor is no place to hold such conversations however I see that you are loathed to be parted from this-distractions.”

“He is not a distraction!” Sherlock hissed. His brother waved him off, not wishing to argue.

“Apologies, brother, I meant no insult. However, I wish to know what you plan on doing with Doctor Watson’s-with your newling? I haver her in containment still but several have called for her death.”

“This again. Mycroft, you tell that Hunter Henrietta that she has no claim to the newling. She gave up any say when it was I that was forced to turn her. The awful taste of such filth still turns my stomach.”

Mycroft shook his head. “Seeing how she is your responsibility; I leave it to you. I press you to make your decision and make it soon. The newly reconstructed council wishes those involved with Moriarty and our dear deceased brother Sherrinford, may his soul never find rest, they want to bring justice to those involved with this-”

“They want a scapegoat. They need to demonstrate their power. They wish to appease the newly freed packs? Well, I care nothing for politics. You know this. So kindly piss off. You should be handing over Moriarty and his pets-Do not try to drag me into these political games. You know it won't work. I do not play well with others and chess is a game I always win.”

“Indeed it is.” Mycroft shook his head. “Although, I always did manage to beat you.”

“I let you win.”

“Hardly-” Mycroft cocked an eyebrow, placing his skinny arms behind his back.

“It’s true. I do not like to drag out games. You know that. I grow bored far too easily.”

“This is true.” Mycroft rolled his eyes. “Something I know all too well since childhood really. You’ve always been the tempestuous one.” Mycroft could read the concern in his brother’s face, something none but the most observant would note.

“And you do know John’s identity is known now and the council has taken into account everything he’s done including the slaying of Sherrinford. A surprise to us all, I would think you would enjoy the video we’ve found of the incident. Your human isn’t so boring after all. He freed several very long imprisoned blood bonded. A good and a bad thing.”

“I hate politics brother. The feud between wolves is far from my concern.”

“It should be a concern. John’s safety would depen-”

“John will be safe even if I must hunt down every threat and neutralize them myself. No one will dare touch my John.”

Mycroft coughed trying to cover up a surprised chuckle. His brother wasn't the same spoiled brat he would always envision when speaking to the younger immortal.

“We can speak of this later when you have no other distractions. Just don’t get too attached to humans, Sherlock. You and I both know they never live long. They are fragile and time moves swiftly in their presence.”

Sherlock waved his brother away and turned and reentered the room. He found the human doctor speaking with one of the house staff requesting new sheets for the young doctor.

The Vampire Doctor was redressing John’s bandaged arm. Sherlock watched at how delicately the Doctor held the young man’s forearm, speaking in a low whisper as if John were awake.

“You Waltersons are all so stubborn and headstrong. And look what such a trait does for you. Betrayed by your own kin, executed and the estates all burned. Did they think changing from Walterson to Watson would change your luck?” The Vampire smiled sadly and Sherlock could see the Vampire Doctor was familiar with John’s face. He spoke as if he knew him personally but it came to him then. The Name Waltermann.  A simpleton could see that. It was a wonder that his own brother had missed it. Waltermann, servant of Walter an old name like Walterson, son of Walter. Watson was just a change in the name but the meaning was the same.

“Do you know him?” Sherlock moved quietly, keeping his voice low and the older man nodded. “Perhaps. I knew his face when it belonged to another. It’s funny how genetics repeat an appearance as if resurrecting all we thought we had lost.  Perhaps I had known the Hunter before she was an immortal, perhaps in another life I knew a young Walter. In another life I could have been the son of a healer.  Funny how life has it’s beginnings and like a great circle we meet again right where we started.”

Sherlock didn’t say anything more. He only nodded, recalling Johann’s bruised face, the accusation in his eyes. His words, “If only someone could love you.”

Everyone left the Vampire alone. He returned to his silent vigil at the human’s side. He would let John go, help him relocate somewhere far away, give him everything he needed. This was over and John could finally move forward with his life. The fear of Moriarty and Moran was now long gone, the young Doctor could return to the life he wanted. Sherlock payed no attention to the time, time was something that vampires were vaguely aware of, like background noise it was there but unimportant. Then a familiar voice broke through his link, he was monitoring John’s dreams, sure to nudge him into a dreamless state where no nightmare would reach him. Any easy thing to do for an old vampire as Sherlock was.

“You could make him forget. Forget it all. Forget himself, give him new memories, perhaps make him believe he were an orphan, that he had no one growing up. We could find, for the right price, “parents” for him, give him a back story. You come from a family name that brings compliance and loyalty and, of course, fear.”

The Hunter had come into John’s room. She didn’t ask permission to take a chair on the opposite side of the bed. The woman glared at the IV of blood. “I passed Doctor Waltermann in the hall. A familiar face indeed, he was my grandfather’s personal healer, so the mystery is solved. “

“Mystery?” Sherlock frowned, momentarily putting her earlier suggestion aside.

“Yeah.” The blonde crossed her legs and allowed her pale hands to squeeze the black leather chair she was sitting in. “It seems that our dear Mary was far from a dense milk maid as I had originally thought. The clever little witch managed to evoke an old pledge that the Waltermanns owed to the Waltersons. How she knew this; I can only wonder. My grandfather passed as any human does, as did my father. How one of such an old line like Waltermann would come to be loyal to my father's line I do not know. Here I was under the belief that our line was indebted to the wolves, or at least that was my mother's defect. She was not a changeling herself but she carried the were blood. She obviously didn’t pass it to me or Johann.  It’s all so confusing really. In my selfishness I never asked questions. I fear I knew very little of my father’s parentage and even more so of my mothers. I always blamed her for the situation. My father had stubbornly gone against your father. He defied his rule and offered refuge to any Were seeking it. Of course, landing my brother and I in the situation we were in. “

“Youth make us all dumb and selfish.” Sherlock grumbled.

“Well, it seems that Doctor Waltermann was asked by a young girl, a farmer’s daughter by the look of her. He was asked to look over a sickly infant, she had a letter written by a quick hand, the child’s mother’s. By Mary. Asking for the healer to do what he could short of turning the infant into a blood sucking monster. If he could be saved to do what he could and the debt he owed the nearly extinct bloodline of Walterson would be paid. It was Johann’s son. A son. A tiny little infant that had a head of blond hair and the eyes of a summer sky. Obviously he paid his debt because John is here. John Watson. Son of Wat, easily translated from Walterson.” She laughed, “Loyalty to my foolish father. Indeed. I’ve forgotten all the faces of my life before I was turned. All except Johann’s. His face is freshly imprinted to my memory but sometimes I wonder how much is truly him and not the fault of a mind’s imagination and sentimental memory.”

“You have always been a fool. I have his image burned into my memory stored safely in my mind palace. He’s in a room I dare not open, a room where his scent is freshly imprinted on the crude threads of his tunic. His hair the softest gold and eyes, like you say, summer right before the sun decides to set. “

“You are a fool. You didn’t love him, Sherlock. You thought that’s what it was. He just happened to be the only one who treated you like -”

“What would you know of love?”

The Hunter shrugged. “You have me there old cold one. I’ve spent too long hunting those I felt responsible for me-” she stood up. “You should rest! At least sit in this chair, and take some blood. You aren’t invincible. And just think about what I said. I leave John to you. I have no claim to him. I can not undo the past. I am going to trust you will do what is right for John.” The hunter moved towards the door her back to the frowning immortal, she spoke without turning “You let him go once Sherlock. “

“And you saw how that ended.” Sherlock growled sinking into the leather chair.

“That wasn’t your fault completely.” The hunter left the room before the past caught up to her.

**  
  
**

Sherlock allowed a servant to  hand him a warm bag of blood. He sank his teeth into the bag with little pleasure. He hated feeding like this. It made him sleepy or dazed, but the Hunter was right. Rest was important. He allowed the post meal stupor to hit him and he drifted, breaking the link he held with John. The protection from nightmares was released and that was something the vamp hadn’t given a thought once he started to drink greedily.

  
Sherlock found himself standing in a place he had pushed away, a place he locked deep down in the darkness that was guilt.

It was his father’s dungeon. The candlelight kept the room in shadow but he was a nocturnal beast, this meant little to his sharp eyes. The silver cage, or prison drew his attention. This place reeked of defecation, molding damp wood, and blood. This is where father stored his prisoners before and sometimes after torture, if he felt particularly wronged or perhaps bored.

He heard a hiss from the cage and, without looking, he knew whom that silverlined prison held. The monster hissed but didn’t touch the bars. “He’s starving, father!” Mycroft spoke irritably. “let me-”

“He will have his meal soon enough. First, a lesson must be taught. I warned you and by proxy him. Weak blood thrives in his veins I had hoped my own would have cleansed that sentimental bitch’s. I was wrong, but enough is enough! Weakness will not be allowed. Our enemies may catch wind and then what will our name mean?”

“Father-” Mycroft growled.

“Enough! Go fetch me your brother Sherrinford! I must speak to my heir.”

  
Sherlock glared at the image that was his father. It startled him to realize he hadn’t even registered the monster’s presence until he spoke. Mycroft growled but always the obedient son, hurried past a blond newling wearing a the leather deerskin leggings, and a similarly fashioned vest. Her blond hair was in a single long braid over her shoulder, she held a mortal, his blond head bowed and clothing stained with dirt and blood.

To his left was Moriarty, the Irishman stepped forward, his eyes crazed. “I want justice!”

“Shut it! I’ve already told you boy, I have this. He is my son and therefore it is my responsibility to punish the child.”

“You should allow me to execute his pet in front of him. Then I call for his life. Truly, Sir Holmes, how could you allow such a defective child to be a part of your name and legacy. Word will get out-”

Father growled and with the speed of his age and stronge blood he turned to hold the thin Irishman by his pale neck. Moriarty hissed, his feet leaving the ground, expensive black boots kicking out, his hands went to the wrist of the elder. “Do not pretend you have no sentimentality in your motives. You only wish to avenge your devoted little blood doll. Now, watch and learn.”

The eldest Holmes released the smaller Moriarty and turned to the blond. “Bring me the boy.”

“Sire. I have brought you the whip as well-”

“Did I ask for it?”

Sherlock watched as the blond did as she was told without hesitation but there was something on her face. It was confusion. Sherlock wanted to scream at her foolishness, he wanted to cry for Mycroft to come back. Wanted to beg Johann to forgive him. However, this was his nightmare and he was rooted to the spot in the shadow, forced to watch from this perspective.

Johann didn’t fight he did meet Father’s dark eyes without fear. “You were a stubborn one. I see my boy was too weak to break your will. It’s such a shame. I wanted you to last another month or so before I would have allowed him to turn you.”

“I’d rather be dead.”

“Oh, you will be.”

“Then kill me now and be done with it. I’m tired of your foul breath.”

“He doesn’t know what he’s saying-” Henrietta tried to step forward but one look from father kept her rooted in place. He, after all, was her sire.

“Your blood isn’t anything special. You carry defects. Too many.” Father held Johann by this arm, his pale hand cupped the human’s bruised and dirtied cheek. “I gave you a chance, a warning by cutting your tendons. Still you do not take heed. So I think it’s fitting for your demise to come by the hand that freed you. He can now truly free you and you may take consolation in the fact that you are helping him become a better vampire as well as feeding the poor starving boy.”

Without further words the door to the Silver cage was opened by the elder Holmes and, though it burned his hand, he did not flinch. He flung the injured human in and slammed the door.

Henrrietta rushed forward. “No! Please!” Her hands clung to the silver bars, but she pulled at the bars.

“You see, James, it’s far more cruel to make them watch. His sister will now understand that she is free from mortality and things like love and family are easily washed away. Sentiment James, is a weakness found on the losing side.

Sherlock neared the place where the blond Hunter was beating at the silver lined door, screaming for mercy, begging her brother to forgive her, begging Sherlock to snap out of his blood haze.

Sherlock did not remember any of this, however, he heard his own voice from within the cage, “No. Johann, I told you to run!”

“Sherlock, just be calm. Hold your breath like we practiced. “ the fear was there in the human’s voice, even as a shadow, memory or a dream, Sherlock sensed it.

“Johann.” The thirsty caged vampire whimpered, throwing himself against the caged doors pulling and kicking. “Father! Get him out of here! I dismissed him! You can’t do this!”

“Even now, boy, you fight it.”

Father hissed, drawing his sword. “Here’s some motivation.” To Sherlock’s horror father drew his longsword and without any warning pushed it past the bars where Johann was standing trying to keep his distance, yelling for his sister to get him out. To please get him out. His cry of pain silenced those pleas.

Father’s cruel laugh alongside Moriarty’s made Sherlock sick. He wanted to look away but could not. He could hear the beast within the cage hiss and gulp. It was too much. Sherlock knew what it was to be in a haze and a full blood rage. He remembered the after but never the before, the monster within him always taking over. And the sound of Johann swearing at father and Moriarty.

“You demons. Some day you will find your end and I am only sad I will not be there to see it!” Johann was yelling through the bars his back to Sherlock, hands reaching for his sister. “Don’t look. Don’t look.” He begged. “It’s not your fault. It’s not his fault.”

Henry jumped back from her brother’s bloodied hands. She was too new to control the burning urge within to feed. Her teeth extended and she hissed, only for the deep growl to come from within the cage. Sherlock knew what would come next. Johann’s eyes closed his face pressed to the bars. “It’s alright, Sherlock. Don’t fight it. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, friend. Goodbye Mary.”

And like that the human was torn back, the slurping and growls were louder than Johann’s cries of pain, and then the quickly quieting of grunting and strangled cries that prey always made when a predator had it and drained it’s life.

Henry had left to retrieve Mycroft, the auburn haired Vampire stood with shock on his face “Father, what have you done?” He gasped, seeing his father’s sword lying near the silver bars, the stain of John’s blood still visible.  

Moriarty clapped. “Well done, Sire. You truly know how to entertain a guest. I don’t care for family dramatics. I’ll call our business concluded until you call on me for more dolls. Good night.”

The Irishman bowed and left the dungeon with a smile on his face and he whistled happily an old tune.

Henry was on her knees staring at her hands. Moriarty paused to pat her head. “I guess you were the right choice after all.”

Sherlock could see the look of hatred in the Hunter’s eyes. She was young but now the mask of cold mirth covered her face. This would be the face he later recognized. Mycroft pulled the door of the cell open, scrambling inside. His brother hissed then blinked.

The blood stained pale face changed and Sherlock knew the confusion, as if waking from a dreamless sleep. It was too late by then. Johann’s light had been extinguished and his eyes were open and empty.

His hair would be stained red and the tears in his neck nearly severed the human’s head from his shoulders. Sherlock cried out, like a wounded animal and the sound of Mycroft’s savage growl startled the older Sherlock. The watcher did just that as his brother quickly picked up father’s own blade and drove it without hesitation into his father’s chest. The silver burning him and the elder’s eyes were widening shock, his mouth forming an oh but he was unable to speak before falling back.

Sherlock was happy when he pulled from this dream, when the link was broken between the two. He was standing, panting tears of blood burning his wide eyes, teeth retracted.

“You see, Holmes. You tried to fight your nature. Our nature, but we are cursed. Your father was right. There is no room for sentiment. It ends up killing those we love.” The blond Hunter gave a sad smile before moving with towards the large window in the corner, her voice was soft and full of resignation.

“Where are you going?” Sherlock gulped.

“I’m doing what I should have done with Johann. I’m putting my distance between us. I’m going as far from here as possible. They’ll be looking for me soon. I hear I have a price on my head.”

She went to the window and opened it. “ One more thing. You fool. When my brother said he wished he could love you. He wished someone could love you. He meant that he wasnt the one for you. He wished you to find someone you loved and someone who loved you back in the same way. You fool. My brother loved you. Just not how you wanted. Goodbye, Sherlock Holmes.”

The vampire couldn’t move. He kept staring from the window back to John, his hands shaking. He ignored the steady beat of the monitors and instead placed two cold fingers to the man’s neck.

A warm strong pulse. He sighed with relief. John was alright. He was not Johann, John would be alright.

 


	21. TO TAKE AND TO GIVE AWAY

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are never what they seem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you are warm and happy! thanks for the wonderful reviews!

John sat alone on a bench, the warmth from the sun had long since gone. He enjoyed evenings in the park, just before sunset. It had been a long day at the clinic, but nothing he couldn’t handle. In fact, these past few days had been nothing but the same. His mobile vibrated in his pocket, moving him from whatever daydream he was starting into. A small smile before answering formed on his lips, his mother was always checking in on him. He wasn’t a child, but it was nice to have such loving parents. 

 

“Hello. Yes, Mum, I’ll remember the milk on the way home. I was only taking a walk through the park. Mum, you worry too much. You know I’m a grown man. I can-Yes. I’ll pick up some beans as well. How’s dad’s foot? Should I pick up some paracetamol while I’m at it? I did grab more bandages so we can swap the old ones out. Alright, alright, I’m on my way.”

 

The blond haired doctor stood up carefully, sore from sitting so long. His old war injuries sometimes bothered him on cold days. So, he stretched his shoulder and arms and sighing, he started on his way, unaware of being watched or that the life he remembered was fabricated by a vampire that wished to give the human peace.

 

That same vampire was watching from the shadows of a tall oak tree, his sharp eyes focused on the smiling human who made his way home.

 

John entered his home having stopped to pick up milk and beans. He put his doctor’s bag  by the door and called out for his mother.

 

“Mum! I’m home. The shop was a little-” The ex soldier froze. Something was different. He couldn’t place a finger on it. The hair on the back of his neck stood straight up. He moved cautiously into the hall past the staircase. To his left was a small sitting room crowded by strangers he did not recognize. He had to move back home after being discharged from the army, the place was small but it had a warmth to it. However that warmth seemed to be sucked from the small home.

 

His father was standing with John’s mum protected behind him. “You taint our line with breeding with a human! You are more than a traitor, Thaddus! You harbor a blood enemy!”

 

“Dad, what’s going on?” John squeezed his mobile, ready to call the police, he didnt recognize these men.

 

“John!” His mum shakily cried out. 

 

The strangers were two very large looking men with scruffy unkempt beards and shoulder length hair. Even their attire spoke of inattention, they wore jeans with holes at the knees and a dirty red flannel.  

 

“Get out of my home! You two are not welcome! You have no business with my family-” his father snapped, the usually unassuming man in the warm beige jumper and black trousers seemed to grow a few inches and his teeth gleamed a little sharper. 

 

“He’s not your boy though, is he?” One of the men with red rimmed gold eyes scowled at John, baring his own yellowed teeth. 

 

Then it happened. John wasn't ready for the man he called father to change from a rather docile looking blondish white haired retired soldier to a growling golden haired werewolf. Just as quickly the other two intruders changed. John grabbed the lamp near him as a weapon. “Mum! Run!”

 

The woman didn’t seem surprised; only worried. Two against one wasn't fair odds. John tried to recall a time that he knew his father was a were. None came to him. It didn’t matter. His father needed help, Or wait, the intruders were turning on him ignoring the growling from the golden haired Wolf. The furniture of the small sitting room was easily broken and both dark haired wolves lunged at John. 

 

The Soldier was ready except the two dogs fell at his feet, two bright red darts sticking from one’s shoulder and another from one’s rump.  Had he left the door open? Several official looking constables in riot gear entered and one shouted “All clear! Targets have been neutralized. We have one territorial male still changed.” A woman with dark hair pulled into a severe ponytail was speaking into her radio, pushing her visor up and sliding her weapon over her shoulder. 

 

“Now, Mr. Watson. Let’s not get too carried away.” The woman spoke softly hands up and eyes downcast. The other officers behind her did the same backing up slowly. “These two need to be transported and chipped for committing a crime of home invasion with intent to kill. Can we remove them from your home?”

 

John watched wide eyed as his father bowed his head as if in a nod stepping back towards his frozen mother. Her face pale. John wanted to go to him, this urge to stand with his family was stronger than his need for answers.

 

“Are you hurt sir? Miss?” A constable made the move to touch John’s shoulder and the golden haired wolf let out a savage growl. 

 

“John, step away from them. Slowly come here stand by me.” The human’s mum beckoned, her long blond braid sitting over her left shoulder. She was wearing the same clothes she’d been wearing this morning. A long green skirt and a god awful knitted red jumper with yellow flowers. 

 

John nodded. Something in him told him that his father as a giant wolf was not going to hurt him. Once he was at his mother’s side the officers were pulling the now transformed naked intruders from the room.

 

“What the hell is going on?” John growled.

 

“John we can explain.” His mother clasped her hands in front of her, something she did when she was nervous or watching her game shows.

 

“How long has dad been a-ah-werewolf?” John reached out and his father’s wet nose  nudged his hand as if asking for him to pet his soft head. 

 

“Since he was born.” She smiled weakly.”Are you hurt?” Her hands shakily went to cradle his face.

 

“And you-”

 

“Oh, dear, I’m human just as you are.”

 

“Who were they?” She didn’t answer. Even his father who continued to nudge his hand with his wet nose seemed unwilling to explain anymore.

 

“John Watson?” A silver haired man with a grainy voice interrupted anything his mother was going to say. The man in the long gray trench coat wore a white button up shirt with a cheap gray tie that had been loosened. His black trousers had seen better days but his shoes were shined black and the man had a friendly grin that reached his chocolate brown eyes.

 

“No!” Mum shouted. “You can’t take him! You can’t take him again!” She held to John now. “He’s our son! “ The woman was hysterical and the blond doctor tried to hold her in a tight embrace. The soldier was taller than she by seven inches so her head rested on his chest. He hugged her close. “Mum, I’m not going anywhere. No one is taking me anywhere. I just would like to know what's going on? Calm down.”

 

The blond wolf growled at the gray haired detective and the detective inspector didn’t even blink. 

 

“Let’s not do the theatrics. His life's in danger. He deserves to know.”

 

“You promised! Thaddus, tell them! They promised! They killed our boy with their silly war. And we took this one on to replace what was lost. They can’t have him! Not again.”

 

“Mum? What are you talking about?” John was so confused. He held his mother away from him, and his father ducked his head not meeting the blond doctor’s eyes. 

 

“What they don’t wish to tell you, John H. Watson, is for the past year you have been living a lie. These people are not your parents. Their last name is Watson, but they are of no genetic connection to you. They  had a son. You won't remember him right away. Your memory has been glamoured a bit, not an easy thing to do, I nearly burst a blood vessel pushing this information into your skull. You were unconscious so that made it a little easier at the time. Not that any of that matters. You attempted to save their son on the battlefield only to be shot yourself. The bullet went through your shoulder and into the poor young man you had risked your life to help. Coincidently, you two shared a similar last name except theirs has an extra T, it was an easy enough change.  Because of your sacrifice this family was willing to take you on as their own.  The memories you have of growing up do not belong to you they were planted in your memory by my brother and I. Those memories are Joshua Wattson’s. “

 

“But why?” John took a step away from the woman he thought he knew as his mum, this tall porcelain skinned vampire that unraveled his life in one quick speech was standing near the door. 

 

“Sentiment. It was to keep you safe but, as you can see, they’ve found you and your safe house is no longer safe. “

 

The Golden haired were growled taking a step near John. The vampire rolled his eyes, “ He is no longer safe here, Wattson, he deserves to know.” 

 

“Sherlock. Could you have waited. Christ!” the gravely voiced detective inspector hissed. He motioned for the room to clear, none of this John paid attention to. Instead he focused singly on the dark haired immortal with the honeyed voice. His life was crashing in around him and none of this mattered as long as he focused on the stranger. Maybe not so strange after all?

 

“Know what?” John forced the words out of his suddenly dry mouth,  the world was starting to pick up speed as it spun.

 

“There is a price on your head. The wolves of the red coven are coming for you.” Said so casually as if the immortal in the dark belstaff wasn't holding the lever that would release the blade of the metaphoric guillotine

 

“Wolves? But-” John’s head started to throb. Memories were creeping in like half finished dreams. Everything started to spin, and the world went completely black. 

  
**_TO BE CONTINUED …..in Gilded THRONES_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the hold up on this chapter, i was trying to develop the story that would follow it. I have a great plan for what's to come next. On a side note MERRY! christmas! happy holidays, or if you dont celebrate then Happy couple of days off of work. lol. I wanted to thank you all for your great reviews. Life is wonderful, work is crazy busy! I got a promotion which means I get a fancy new title and cozy office...aka a windowless room the size of a closet with a computer thats a million years old lol. Anyway! I hope you are all well! Please visit me on my tumbler at marylousfanfictionspace. or stop in to my facebook page Sherlock fanfiction (www.facebook.com/Marylouleachfanfic) I sent out christmas cards hand made to those to responded to my question. I have another card I'm going to send. It's actually a fun looking one. SO. if you want a chance at a handwritten thanks for following, then stop in and say hello! I'll be choosing randomly and stuff. happy new years! what is ur resolution?


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